You Can’t Fight

Mixed boxing, 380 pictures 1920x1080 (Full HD), completely CFNM, no blood.

In a novel idea (which proved to be great entertainment) a female MMA promoter, associated with Kimiko, decided to invite former partners to fight. She was inundated with applications from women who wanted revenge on their ex-husbands or boyfriends. She would then contact the man, and her introduction would go something like this:

“Hello, my name is [withheld] and I’m a fight promoter. Your ex-wife would like to fight you in a ring, which I can provide. The fight will be filmed for private viewing by club members only, and it will be a cfnm match. Do you accept?”

It was such fun hearing the man squirm on the other end of the phone! They hardly ever wanted to do it; even the few who declared, “Yeah, bring it on!” were bluffing, she could tell. To those who hesitated or outright refused, she would raise the stakes:

“Oh, that’s a shame. We will be publishing the fight requests online, and whether they were accepted or declined. I really don’t want to be the person to let it be known that you’re scared of fighting a woman …”

That always worked, and first off was the gorgeous redhead, Poppy, challenging her ex-boyfriend, Matt. It is to be kiss ass match, where the loser had to kiss the victor’s ass. Lanuola, once a rival of Kimiko’s but now a friend after losing to her (gallery 797), was to film the event.

Poppy looked ravishing in a daring red leotard, red boots, and red gloves, matching her hair. Do not be deceived by her innocent baby girl eyes, either! She knew everything about men: how to please them on the one hand and destroy them on the other. She knew her large, beautiful breasts, and her well-rounded bottom were a distraction, and she exploited them to the full.

The warmup exercises looked more as if they were an exhibition of the female form (with some clumsy, awkward male getting in the way) in all its flattering poses. After them, Poppy looked positively doll-like in her corner, waiting for the bell. But she was more like Action Man when she threw her first punch, catching Matt on the jaw with a left jab. It was hard enough, and served as a warning shot, because her next punch was a scorcher. It was a full-on right cross, and it put him down.

She had just been getting into her stride, finding her rhythm, and it annoyed her. This pathetic male had flopped down after only two of her punches! Angrily she told him it was too soon, and ordered him to get up and fight her, adding “bitch” for good measure. As it was, he had to use the ropes to get to his feet. Once up, he clung to Poppy in a clinch, but all it did was to jam him against the ropes.

Taking full advantage of this, she freed herself from the clinch, and rammed her left fist into his stomach. Desperately trying to retreat, he ended up half-out of the ropes, with his right leg over the bottom one, while the rest of his body seemed to be stuck to them. It was a dangerously vulnerable position to be in, with Poppy in full flow, and she sliced her right fist into his kidney.

Working hard to ignore the dull ache in his stomach, and the red-hot pain in his kidney, Matt struck out with his left. Poppy leant out of the way, but it did buy him some time. If he could hold her off for a bit, it would enable him to absorb the pain, and then who knows? He might be able to attack her properly. She had even gone back a step, so he wasn’t held fast against the ropes anymore either.

Very well, that’s how he would play it. Encouraged by this “success”, Matt jabbed with his right; Poppy dipped, then swooped in with her left to his other kidney. That wasn’t meant to happen! Now he had more pain to contend with. Okay, if a jab didn’t work, try a right cross – she smartly blocked it.

“This is how you do it,” she murmured, blasting his chin with an expert cross. At her camera and facing behind her, Lanuola got a lovely close up of Poppy’s rear view, her glorious bottom wobbling ever-so-slightly as her glove landed on the hapless Matt’s chin.

He was down for the second time, sitting forlornly on the mat, held up by the bottom rope under his arms. This time, Poppy allowed herself a little celebration, before stepping back to the centre and beckoning to Matt to get up and join her.

He did, somewhat shakily, and they circled. Poppy wanted to laugh at the frightened man. There he was, with no thought of attacking, just anxiously waiting for her next move and hoping to escape it. He didn’t though. Her left fist sent him reeling, catching him on the jaw. Then her right – a lovely straight cross – cracked him on the other jaw. The camera caught the despairing, agonised look on his face, and Lanuola knew that men would hate to see it, but wouldn’t be able to stop watching it either.

Lanuola laughed as a left hook from Poppy had Matt hopping and skipping to stay on his feet. But then she sighed in admiration, and shivered with sexual excitement, when Poppy’s uppercut soared into the air, while her male opponent fell away from it to land crashing onto the mat.

“Have you had enough?” demanded the female pugilist. No answer. So Poppy proceeded to count him out, deservedly celebrating when she got to 10.

She posed over her former boyfriend until he regained consciousness. She wasn’t going to let him escape the humiliation of that! But there was more humiliation, as agreed, and he dutifully kissed her ass when she presented it to him (as if he’d need any encouragement).

After posing for the camera, Poppy returned to Matt, and forced him down on his knees. Saying, “You lose, bitch,” she fired her right knee into his jaw and put him on his back. There was now only one way to finish it – and him – off, so she sat on his face for some enforced lady pleasuring. He was better at that than he was at fighting, and before long she had a look of pure ecstasy on her face.

When the pleasure subsided, Lanuola joined her in the ring and announced her the winner by a first-round knockout. The women embraced, with Lanuola telling Poppy she loved redheads, and being invited to “prove it”.

*****

There was nothing innocent or baby girl about the next challenger, Rosa. She looked what she was: a strong, mature woman. Her white lacy leotard pinned itself tightly to her generous breasts and her fabulous curves, as she went through her warmup routine, while looking scornfully at her ex-husband, Phillip. She hated him for cheating on her and had been longing for this moment. Lanuola, at the camera, felt her breathing quicken in excited anticipation.

“I hope she knocks that smug, arrogant expression right off his face,” she thought, watching him smirk at Rosa, and looking rather ridiculous, naked, with black boxing gloves. She got what she wanted when, after circling, the wife surprised her husband with her left glove on his jaw. Lanuola’s eyebrows raised as, unencumbered by any bra, Rosa’s lovely big breasts swung with her punch.

Phillip struck with a mighty left cross, but it was wasted energy, because it sailed over her shoulder since she ducked out of the way. As he nearly over-balanced, she had time to pick a target, and her powerful right fist thudded into his chest. Phillip, always with an eye for the ladies, forced himself to smile towards Lanuola, as if to say, “It really didn’t hurt, you know,” while coughing and retreating.

“Oh, yes!” thought Lanuola, when the fired-up lady boxer rocked her male opponent with a glorious uppercut. Another one like that would have him over.

All too aware of that, Phillip tried to clinch, but Rosa pushed him away and powered her right knee into his stomach. It had him in disarray, so she cracked him on the chin with a left cross. If he had been in disarray before, he seemed to be in orbit now. He staggered and blundered about. Gone was any attempt at smiling; gone was any awareness of his immediate surroundings. The first thing he did become aware of was his ex-wife beckoning to him to join her in the middle.

Shaking himself, to try and get rid of the cotton wool that seemed to fill his head, he obeyed. They circled, but Rosa didn’t want to give him too much time to recover, so she swung a left hook in at his jaw, and his head followed the path of her punch. Then her right sailed into his opposite jaw and chin. As she was right-handed, it was even more effective than her previous strike, and it put him down on his backside.

“I don’t remember giving him that,” thought Rosa, looking curiously at Phillip’s black eye. “Oh well, it looks good on him anyway,” she concluded to herself, while asking out loud, “Have you had enough, lover?”

There was no more smirking from Phillip. He stood up and quickly got into a clinch with Rosa, before she could inflict any more damage on him. (It was only now that Lanuola could see he stood a good couple of inches taller than Rosa. Her dominant manner must have made her appear taller than she actually was.)

All the clinch did was to put him on the ropes. The smaller woman seemed to have reserves of strength that her husband lacked in the first place. He found himself avoiding her eyes as she worked him against the ropes. Once he was there, she drove her left fist into his stomach, as he despairingly struck out at nothing with his left. Her fist pinned him against the ropes, and she followed up by launching her right into his kidney.

Then she returned to what seemed to be her favourite pastime – punching her ex-husband in the face. This one was another left hook, catching him on the cheek bone. It set him up nicely for her next attack: a gigantic right cross, which got him in his already blackened eye.

Was he crying? She couldn’t be sure. He slumped against the ropes with his head bowed, clutching it with both gloves. Once again, Rosa made for the middle of the ring and beckoned to him to join her. He would have to look up eventually. When he did, he saw the familiar sight of his ex-wife instructing him to join her. It was her turn to smirk, and it was definitely hostile. On the other hand, those lovely breasts of hers looked welcoming – mind you, they always did.

She softened him up with a left jab before pounding his left eye yet again. Unfortunately for Lanuola, her punch forced him to face away from her, so she never saw or captured the agonised expression on his face. What a contrast it was from his cocky smile earlier!

But she caught everything with Rosa’s next and final punch. It was a sumptuous left uppercut. The mature lady knocked her former husband off his feet and put him on his back, out cold. What a sweet moment it was! She exorcised all her old feelings of jealousy and hurt with that knockout punch. That’ll teach you to cheat on your wife, Phillip! She stood over him with a foot on his face, for a celebration that was both public for Lanuola and her camera, and private, for her memories.

When Phillip began to stir, Rosa sat on his face. He’d lost, and she intended to rub his face in it, literally. Once satisfied (well, sort of) she put him on his side and wrapped her splendid legs around his middle, and her arms around his neck in a rear naked choke.

“Jerk yourself off!” she insisted. But she still wasn’t satisfied, and ordered him to “Go faster, bitch.” Terrified, Phillip did as she said. When he came, Rosa told him he was a “pussy”.

Lanuola entered the ring, held Rosa’s right glove aloft and, for the second time, announced a win by a first-round knockout. The two women embraced, and Lanuola told Rosa that she wanted to fight her. Rosa was all for it, offering that night.

*****

The next fight was unusual in that the male, Brett, wanted it as much as his former girlfriend, Anh, and they agreed on a no holds barred match. Their relationship had ended in bitterness and resentment on both sides. It was unusual, too, in that he was obviously shorter than she was. She was lovely, too. From Vietnam, she had long dark hair, and wore an Asian-themed leotard, with tapered lacing at each side, showing a daring amount of her exquisite figure.

The warmup exercises over with, they now faced off in the ring, glaring at each other. In a rare exception to the general rule, an impartial observer who liked a bet would most likely have put his money on Anh to win. It wasn’t just her commanding height over Brett. There was something about her poise that suggested victor, whereas Brett looked bunched up and defensive in comparison.

This was borne out by Anh’s first strike, a good firm left to his jaw. Straight away he was in trouble, and it was only made worse by her right cross into his opposite jaw. He looked surprised – as if someone wasn’t expected to throw a punch in a boxing ring. Or perhaps he was surprised that his formerly loving girlfriend could fight as well as any ruffian.

If that wasn’t enough of a surprise, she now gripped him around his middle and lifted him up off the canvas. Then he found himself flat on his now suddenly painful back, and pinned by a tall Asian beauty, gripping his wrists above his head. She knew what she was about and engulfed his face in her breasts. He had never been able to resist them, and today was no different.

But she wasn’t in the mood to linger, even if it was entertaining. Strong wrists seized his wrists, pulled him back up, and forced him onto the ropes. Then she seemed to bury her right fist low into his side. But it wasn’t as low as her next shot, deep down in the pit of the stomach with her left. So deep it was, in fact, that it “accidentally” struck his cock as well.

She knew that he would be capable of nothing after that for a while, so she allowed herself a brief celebration in the centre, for the benefit of Lanuola’s camera. But he recovered more quickly than she had allowed for and approached her. Seemingly annoyed by this, she hip tossed him down onto the mat, swiftly graduating from triangle choke to arm bar.

Just at the moment that the pain in Brett’s left arm became unbearable and he was about to tap, she pulled him back up and plunged her right fist into his chest. After that, it was open season on his face, and she smashed her left glove into his jaw. His whole body jarred with the impact. But if he thought that was bad enough, a splendid right uppercut, chin and jaw, thrust him off his feet and onto his back.

Anh started counting, but Brett was unaware of anything. He still hadn’t stirred by the time she got to 10. It was only when she had her foot on his head, celebrating, that he regained consciousness. Oh good, she thought, and decided on a little fun.

This entailed imprisoning him between her thighs in a body scissor. She found it hilarious to lever his backside into the air and smack it. After that, she reverse sat on his face and took his cock in her glove. The elation of victory quickened her climax, and she threatened Brett with unspecified horrors if he didn’t come there and then. Luckily for him, he did.

It was time for Lanuola to enter the ring and announce the winner. She did it with pleasure, listing the third first-round knockout. Clearly excited by the woman’s victory, she told Anh she wanted her “bad”, and was delighted to hear the victorious Asian tell her it was mutual.

*****

The final fight of this marathon was Kalani vs Todd. Todd? How had he managed to get in on this? The fact is that because Anh had defeated Brett more quickly than expected, Lanuola decided to include the next fight in the general queue to give the video a bit more time. They hadn’t been lovers; he’d just managed to infuriate yet another woman.

Kalani was a fine Amazon. Jet black in a bold yellow leotard, with matching gloves and boots, the way she plunged into her warmup exercises would put fear into any opponent. It was almost as if she was determined to “win” them as well as the fight. Todd, naked, with his usual muddy coloured boxing gloves, chose not to look at her.

But he had to look at her soon enough, when they began to circle. Seeing how formidable she looked, he determined on making the first move, and jabbed with his left. Kalani contemptuously brushed it away. Undeterred, he fired a right cross, but she leant out of the way of it. Then she showed him how it was done, with a left cross to his chin.

Here we go again! Yet another woman beating the crap out of Todd because he didn’t know when to stop his banter with them. Kalani swapped crosses, her right glove punishing his jaw and making him cry out in pain. She then shoved him impatiently onto the ropes and lunged with her left fist into his stomach. That really softened him up, as she had planned, so she now blasted his jaw with an uppercut.

Kalani had Todd where she wanted him, and turned the occasion into a punch fest, left hooking him, jaw and chin, and forcing his head hard against the top rope. For his part, she was attacking him so vigorously that he didn’t have a chance - didn’t have a chance, in fact, of staying on his feet after a left cross sent him sailing down to the mat.

“Have you had enough, bitch?” she asked as he lay bewildered on the canvas. He told her, yes, she was too strong for him.

Viewers would probably be relieved to discover that Kalani could smile, because up until now she had worn an expression that was pure hostility. Now, though, she beamed in celebration, standing with her foot on Todd’s neck.

Then it was time for the dreaded strap on. “Suck it, bitch,” Kalani insisted as Todd squatted in front of her. Well, she’d won, and he had no choice. Like all the women who wore them in these matches, she seemed to experience the same pleasure as a man when he gets the real thing. Then came the feared words, “Get on all 4s”, followed by, “He is mine”.

“No way, bitch!” Lanuola intervened. She marched into the ring to confront Kalani, who was only too pleased to fight about it. They agreed it must go to a KO.

Todd, safely out of the way, watched from a corner as Lanuola opened her account with a left to Kalani’s stomach. Kalani replied with a left hook. Quick to recover, Lanuola got in with a nasty left cross to Kalani’s eye. Undeterred, Kalani fired back with a right hook. The ferocity of the punches was only matched by each one’s ability to recover and respond instantly, and Lanula answered the right hook with a right cross to Kalani’s chin.

It started to go wrong for Kalani when Lanuola dodged a left hook, then thrust her left hard into her opponent’s stomach. A right uppercut then put her out of the equation. Panting, a jubilant Lanuola counted her out. Then, telling Todd to get the strap on, she made Kalani suck it after she regained consciousness. After complying, she demanded a future rematch, and Lanuola readily agreed.

Embracing Todd while Kalani moodily left the ring, she gave him a few words of advice:

“Stop being an idiot and remember you can’t fight.”