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From: DG <dionysian1@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASS/M} Celeste's #1 for April: "Blood and Sand" by DG [1/3] (MF,Mf,rom,viol)
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========================================================
    The following piece of fiction contains strong sexual 
    content and is meant to be read only by adults.  If you 
    are not at least 18 years old, or if you are offended by 
    this type of material, please do not read any further.
    ========================================================




                      "Blood and Sand"


                     by DG (Dionysian1)



    +++  Part One  +++


    Fabian Barnes eyed the last few green shoots poking up from 
the top of the ornamental hedge.  Three satisfying snicks from his 
hedge clipper, and they joined their companions on the lawn.  He 
dropped the clipper and stepped back to admire his work.  The top 
of the hedge, which enclosed three sides of the large, lushly 
landscaped back yard, was now as flat and green as a billiards 
table.  In this quiet neighborhood, where the use of gasoline-
powered trimmers and blowers was strictly regulated, nothing less 
would do.  

    It was three in the afternoon, the southern California sun was 
still high in the cloudless sky, and it had to be ninety-five 
degrees in the shade. Sweat was trickling down his face, making 
his eyes sting and his white t-shirt stick to his chest and back 
like a second skin.  He turned to give the swimming pool a longing 
glance, and noticed a flash of movement behind the large picture 
window overlooking the yard.  With a little smile, he peeled off 
his white t-shirt and used it to mop the sweat from his face and 
neck.  Fabian was a big man in his late twenties, over six feet 
tall and well muscled, with shoulder-length blond hair pulled back 
into a ponytail with a rubber band.  From a distance his face 
looked smooth and chiseled, but up close the scars around his 
eyebrows and the somewhat misshapen cartilage of his nose gave it 
more character.  Either way, he was a good looking man. 

    He raked up the hedge clippings and put them into a big 
plastic bin, and then he walked up to the back door and knocked, 
still shirtless.

    The woman who answered the door was attractive, in a thin 
overly-groomed sort of way.  Fabian knew the type well:  in her 
mid-thirties, she was bored and restless in her suburban castle.  
She smiled at him, flipping her shiny brown hair back with a 
practiced gesture.  "All done?"

    "Yes, ma'am.  Do you want to come out and take a look?"  
Deliciously cool gusts of air from the house swirled past him, 
evaporating the sweat from his chest and face and making his 
nipples tighten.

    "Oh, no, I've been... I happened to glance out and see what 
you were doing a little while ago, and it looks great.  Real nice 
job."  She was staring at his bare chest, and he saw the tip of 
her pink tongue moisten the corner of her mouth.  

    "Thanks."

    "Jesus, it's hot out there.  Why don't you come inside and 
have something to drink while I get my purse."

    "Thanks, that would be great,"  he said, meaning it.  He 
followed her into the kitchen, eyeing her long tan legs and her 
cute little ass, which was packed into a tight pair of snowy-white 
shorts.  He didn't see any possible way she could be wearing 
panties.

    She gestured towards the huge silver refrigerator.  "There's 
all sorts of stuff in there - help yourself.  I'll be right back."

    Fabian rooted around and found a six-pack of Budweiser long 
necks lurking among the bottled water and fruit juice.  He popped 
the cap off one and took a long swig, emptying half the bottle.  
Two more pulls and it was empty.  He quickly stashed the bottle in 
the garbage and opened another.  

    "Now, how much do I owe you?" the woman asked, coming back 
with her purse.  She came over and stood in front of him, a little 
too close.

    Fabian looked into her eyes, and said "Before we settle the 
bill, are you sure there isn't anything else around here that 
needs taking care of?"    

    A little smile played across her mouth.  "Hmm...let's see, I 
guess there might be something..."

    "Something indoors, maybe?  Sure is sticky out there."

    She took the beer out of his hand and took a sip.  Then she 
wiped her mouth delicately with the back of her hand and said "Now 
that you mention it, I think there might be something for you 
upstairs."  

    "What sort of job, ma'am?  Physical labor?  Any heavy 
lifting?"  

    She set the beer down on the counter and ran her hand up and 
down his chest, tracing the well-defined plates and ridges.  "I 
think we've done enough dancing around the subject, don't you?"

    "Yes ma'am," he said with a grin.  He pulled her toward him, 
and she came willingly, tilting her head up so that their mouths 
met in a long, firm kiss.

    "Is your name really Fabian?"

    "I'm afraid so."

    "No, I like it.  You can call me Kathy, Fabian.  Unless my 
asshole of a husband is around, in which case you better stick to 
ma'am."  She stuck out her tongue and delicately licked his chest.  
Her tongue felt warm and soft on his sweat-cooled skin, and he 
twitched involuntarily when she flicked at his nipple. "What do 
you say we go upstairs and put you to work...Fabian?"

    He grabbed the beer off the counter and followed her through 
the showplace home, which was filled with uncomfortable-looking 
furniture and oddly-shaped objects too useless to be anything but 
art.  She led him up to the second floor, to a small room with a 
full-sized bed; probably a guest bedroom.  Or maybe it was the 
designated room for fucking the help.  

    "You want me to grab a quick shower, Kathy?  I'm kinda 
sweaty..."

    "No!  I want you sweaty.  You can shower after."  

    He shrugged and sat down next to her on the bed.  They kissed 
again, and she rubbed the bulge in the front of his faded jeans, 
tracing the outine of his cock, making it bigger.  He slid his 
hand under her top and opened the front clasp of her bra with a 
practiced twist, spilling out her small, soft breasts.  Just from 
their texture, he could tell that they weren't very sensitive, and 
he treated them a little roughly, cupping one in his large hand 
and squeezing it firmly, massaging the nipple between his callused 
fingers.  

    Kathy moaned and broke the kiss. "Oh, that feels very good... 
God, I love a man who knows what he's doing."

    She pushed him back on the bed, straddled his chest, and took 
off her top.  He continued to squeeze and pinch her nipples, doing 
it hard enough to hurt, and she gritted her teeth and twitched.  
"Fuck yes," she said, her eyes starting to glaze with lust.  "That 
feels really, really fucking amazing."  

    As he continued working her breasts over, she reached behind 
her back and unzipped his jeans.  He lifted up his butt, and she 
pushed them down past his hips.  Then she closed her hand around 
his stiffening cock and pulled it out of his shorts.

    "Oh yeah... beautiful... I love a nice thick juicy cock more 
than anything, you know that?  More than any-fucking thing.  I 
haven't even seen this one yet, but I just I know I'm gonna love 
it."  

    Fabian smiled to himself.  These upper-income housewives 
always liked to talk dirty and to be treated a little rough.  He 
supposed it was all part of the fantasy - the lady of the manor 
slumming with the husky, sex-crazed yard boy.  He wondered what 
sex between this woman and her husband was like.  Probably neither 
one of them said a word the whole time.

    She was jerking his cock with her hand behind her back, and he 
was fully erect.  "I'm making you hard, Fabian.  You like that?  
Do I make you hot, Fabian?"

    "I want you to suck it," he said, deadpan.  Might as well play 
the part.

    "You want me to suck this sweaty old cock of yours?" 

    "Yep."

    "Not much of a talker, are you?"

    "Nope."

    She swung her leg off his chest and kneeled next to him, and 
he reached down and finished taking off his jeans, his erection 
bobbing back and forth, and then lay back down.

    "You have a beautiful fucking cock, you know that?"

    Whatever.  She gripped the base in her right hand and licked 
his shaft with long fluid strokes, using her whole tongue.  
Apparently she was into licking.  "Mmm, tastes so good...I love a 
big, hard, sweaty cock more than anything..."  

    She moved her attention up to the head, teasing him with 
little flicks at the sensitive opening, pretending she was a porno 
actress or something.  He put his hand on the back of her neck and 
gently pushed her head down.  She got the hint and started sucking 
him in earnest, slurping away greedily as she worked her mouth up 
and down his thick shaft.  

    It wasn't the best head he had ever gotten, but it was pretty 
decent, and she didn't show any signs of letting up.  He hated it 
when a woman gave him head for thirty seconds and then stopped, 
like they had done their duty.  But not Kathy, she seemed to be 
genuinely enjoying herself.  After a little while she started 
fondling his balls with her left hand, and he realized he had 
better start fucking her before he blew his load in her mouth.

    "That feels awesome," he said.  "How about we fuck now?"

    "Mmm, lets," she said with a smile, wiping the excess saliva 
off her chin.

    He stood up and stroked his hard, slippery cock while she lay 
on her back and peeled off her tight shorts.  No panties.  "Oh 
God, I need to be fucked so bad," she said, somewhat 
unnecessarily.  He pulled her shorts off her ankles and dropped 
them on the floor, and she spread her legs and writhed on the bed.

    "Come and get it, Fabian."

    He could see the moistness inside the dark tangle of her bush, 
and her spicy scent was in his nostrils.  He moved over her, 
aiming his cock with his hand, and entered her warm depths with 
one delicious plunge that left him lying on top of her, face to 
face.  Her pussy was loose and slippery.

    "That feels so good," she purred.

    "It most surely does, Kathy," he agreed.  He raised up on his 
elbows and started fucking her with short hard pumps of his hips, 
grinding his groin against her pussy at the end of each stroke.  
Her eyes opened wide, and she reached around and grabbed his 
muscular buttocks, pulling him even deeper into her.

    "Oh god... yes, fuck me... fuck me..."  She continued to chant 
into his ear as they fucked.  It was sort of silly, all this dirty 
talk, but he decided he could get used to it.

    He kept up a steady rhythm, making a wet slapping sound with 
every thrust, and her voice started getting ragged and uneven. 

    "Fuck me... oh god, don't stop..."  Some heavy breathing, and 
then she came, bucking her hips sharply up at him and moaning with 
her eyes shut tight.  If it was an act, it was a damn good one, 
and he was rather pleased with himself.

    "Oh Fabian," she said, running her hands through his hair.  
"That was fucking amazing.  Your turn now...  I want you to come 
inside me... fill me up."

    "Roll over," he said, getting off her.  

    "Mmm, whatever you say."  She rolled over and waggled her ass 
in his face.  Definitely her best feature.  He pressed his cock 
into her ripe, swollen pussy and pulled her ass back against him.  
Holding her hips firmly in place with his big hands, he fucked her 
with rapid, powerful thrusts that made her ass cheeks ripple like 
waves.   

    "Oh Fabian, yeah, take me... give it to me..."

    It didn't take long.  He leaned his head back and stared 
unseeing at the ceiling as the semen came flowing up his shaft.  
Grunting through gritted teeth, he spurted his hot liquid into 
her, and for a few seconds an ordinary, carnal encounter was 
transformed into something magical.  But only for a few seconds.

    "I've got a feeling my hedge is going to need trimming again 
real soon," said Kathy.  

    "You gotta stay right on top of 'em, they grow back pretty 
quick," he agreed.

    "Should we say a week from today, then?"

    "Sounds about right."

    She looked at the clock on the nightstand.  "Shit - it's later 
than I thought.  My husband could be home any minute.  You better 
be running along, Fabian."  
    "Right."


    *****************


    An hour later, showered and changed, Fabian was sitting in a 
folding chair watching a hard-fought beach volleyball game.  A 
blond girl named Lynn was stretched out on her stomach next to him 
in a skimpy bikini, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine.  
Fabian was sleeping with her, but they weren't really in a 
relationship.  In fact, he didn't even like her all that much.  
Lynn was the manager of a local Wendy's.  She had been his boss 
before he quit to go into the landscaping business, trading in his 
mop and paper hat for a mower and hedge clippers.  But she still 
treated him like she was his superior, as if managing a lousy 
fast-food place gave her some sort of intellectual edge.  Besides 
that, she wasn't really that hot, although she did have a 
mouthwatering set of tits.

    He was pondering how he should go about disentangling himself 
from Lynn, when someone called out "Fabian, my man!  How's the 
lawn mowing gig treating you?"  A skinny black guy with a cheerful 
smile and a cleanly-shaved head came up and slapped him on the 
back.  

    "Hey Mickey," said Fabian, looking up with a smile.  "I prefer 
to call it a holistic landscaping maintenance service.  So far 
business is so-so, but I'm enjoying the perks.  I see you're 
managing to stay out of jail."  

    Mickey was a hustler, a small-time criminal who always had a 
couple of scams going.  Fabian knew that with his own rich history 
of bad luck he'd be sure to end up in jail the first time he did 
something illegal, so he never gave much serious thought to 
Mickey's schemes.  But he and Mickey went way back, and he enjoyed 
hanging out with him.  

        "Jail?  Jail is for chumps," said Mickey with a snort.  
Fabian gestured towards an empty lawn chair and Mickey dragged it 
over and sat down.

    "So what's shaking?" asked Fabian.  Mickey had plenty of 
friends in low places, making him an excellent source of juicy 
gossip.

    "Something right up your alley."  He leaned close, and in a 
conspiratorial tone said, "Beach brawl tonight at eight, over at 
Tigertail.  Ten bucks a head.  You interested?"

    "What are you talking about?" asked Fabian, turning away from 
the volleyball game.

    "Latest thing, man - couple guys go at it on the sand, winner 
takes all.  Guy called Basher is fighting tonight, he's a real 
trip.  Gotta keep it under your hat, though, this shit's illegal."

    "I don't need to pay ten bucks to see a fight.  I want to see 
a fight, I'll just start one myself." 

    "Whatever you say," said Mickey, holding up his hands.  
"Thought you might be interested, that's all."

    Lynn pushed herself up on her elbows, displaying a dangerous 
amount of cleavage.  "What are you guys talking about?  What kind 
of a fight?"

    "Boxing," said Mickey, helping himself to an eyeful of her 
tits.  "Light gloves, no hitting below the waist, last man 
standing wins.  None of that chop-socky oriental shit, or anything 
like that."

    "Sounds pretty cool," said Lynn.  "I like a good fight, you 
know?"

    "Sounds kinda lame to me,"  said Fabian dismissively.  
Actually it sounded fairly interesting, but if he spent twenty 
bucks tonight he wouldn't be eating tomorrow.  

    "I bet you're short on cash again, Mr. Holistic Landscape 
Man," said Mickey.  "Tell you what, I'll pay."

    And that settled it, of course.

    A little before eight they piled into Mickey's car and headed 
up to Tigertail, one of the more remote beaches.  There were a 
couple hundred people on hand; lots of yelling and laughing, and 
the air was filled with the sweet smell of pot.  As they walked 
into the milling crowd, a guy holding a paper shopping bag shook 
them down for the ten bucks each.  Mickey handed the guy a crisp 
hundred-dollar bill and got change, and then led them toward the 
action.

     The fighters were easy to spot since they already had their 
gloves on, and Fabian gave them each a close look.  Basher turned 
out to be a big white guy in his thirties with a bald head and a 
goatee.  He had "hard time" written all over him:  crude tattoos 
on his arms and neck, a cold sneer, and the lopsided muscular 
physique that guys developed in the exercise yard: big chest and 
bulging biceps, but skinny legs and no core.  All for show, like a 
peacock's tail.

    His opponent was a fat black guy with a jiggling belly who 
looked more like a sumo wrestler than a boxer.  Fabian reserved 
his judgment on him, but Mickey shook his head and said "That 
poor, tubby brother's gonna get his ass kicked big time."  He 
didn't sound too broken up about it.

    At eight pm sharp a middle-aged guy with a craggy face and 
slicked-back gray hair walked into the open area and raised his 
arms for quiet.  The noise level dropped a notch or two, and the 
guy had the crowd close in around a circle drawn in the sand, 
forming a well-defined ring.  

    "That's Jimmy Vargas," said Mickey.  "An acquaintance of mine.  
This is his new gig.  He sets up the fights, and splits the take 
50-50 with the winner."

    Fabian nodded.  There was electricity in the air now, and it 
was bringing back a flood of memories.  He was getting a pretty 
good idea why Mickey had dragged him out here.

    Jimmy Vargas went over a short list of rules, and then 
introduced the contestants.  

    "The challenger, fighting in his first bout, wearing the 
purple trunks, from San Diego...Lonnie 'The Hammering Homeboy' 
Edwards!"

    The fat black guy raised his flabby arms, and there was a 
smattering of applause and some laughter.  

    "Dude needs to work on his nickname," said Fabian.

    "That's the least of his worries," said Mickey.  "Besides, you 
should talk."

    "In the black trunks, from Los Angeles, the current beach 
brawl champion, with a record of nine wins and no losses...Bob 
'Basher' Lebrowski!"

    The crowd cheered more loudly this time.  Most of the 
spectators looked like high-school and college kids, but there was 
a contingent of older, tough-looking men who seemed to be Basher's 
designated rooting section, and they were pointing at the 
challenger and making thumbs-down signals.  Basher didn't 
acknowledge the introduction, he just glared fiercely at Lonnie.

    Jimmy positioned the fighters face to face in the middle of 
the ring and blew a referee's whistle to start the fight. 

    With the crowd urging them on, the fighters circled each other 
at close range.  Basher was still giving Lonnie a death-ray stare, 
and Fabian got the impression it was working.  The Hammering 
Homeboy didn't exactly look scared, but he definitely looked like 
he wished he was someplace else.  

    Then, as if on cue, the two fighters rushed at each other and 
started flailing away wildly.  Basher got up inside Lonnie's guard 
and seemed to be getting the better of it, hammering away with 
both hands.  Fabian didn't see any solid blows landed, but Lonnie 
suddenly dropped to one knee and covered up his head.  Bad idea.  
Basher just kept right on swinging, and after missing badly a few 
times he caught Lonnie with a sweeping underhand blow that snapped 
his head back with a thwack that could be heard above the crowd 
noise.  Lonnie fell back and lay motionless on the sand, and Jimmy 
Vargas blew his whistle and grabbed Basher before he could 
continue pummeling his unconscious opponent.

    The fight had lasted thirty seconds at most, and except for 
Basher's friends the crowd wasn't happy.  Jimmy Vargas raised 
Basher's arm in victory and tried to make an announcement, but it 
was drowned out by boos and catcalls.

    "Cripes," said Fabian.  "Not much of a fight."

    Mickey nodded.  "Happens sometimes.  Basher don't mess around 
none, but usually it takes him at least a couple minutes.  There 
was supposed to be another fight, but somebody musta canceled."

    Unhappy with the booing, Basher started screaming angrily at 
the crowd.  "Fuck you all!   I'll kick anyone's ass here - who 
wants some?  Who wants some?"

    "What a putz," said Fabian.  "I bet he's never been inside a 
real boxing ring in his life."

    "I wouldn't think so," agreed Mickey.

    "Why do you say that?" asked Lynn.  

    "He doesn't have any boxing skills," explained Fabian.  "He's 
just a brawler.  Boxing is a sport, you know."  

    "That's right, you used to box, didn't you?"

    "Yep."

    "Maybe you oughta go teach ol' Basher a lesson then."  Lynn 
was using that mocking tone of voice that he hated, reminding him 
why he was getting tired of her.

    Mickey grinned at him.  "Yeah Fabes, why don't you go tell 
Jimmy you want a shot at the champ?  There's a decent pile of cash 
in that shopping bag - you win, you can buy yourself a new power 
mulcher or something."  

    Fabian stared at Mickey.  "This is why you brought me here, 
isn't it?"

    He shrugged.  "Hey - like I said before, I thought this might 
be right up your alley."

    Fabian took another look at Basher.  He was working the crowd 
like a pro wrestler, flexing until veins popped in his arms and 
chest and screaming so violently that spittle was flying out of 
his mouth.  But what Fabian noticed was his skinny legs and his 
soft stomach.

    "All right, why not.  If it'll make you two happy, I'll take 
him on."

    "Attaboy," said Mickey.  "I'll go get you some gloves."

    "Are you nuts?" said Lynn, her smile disappearing.  
"Seriously, Fabian, have you lost your fucking mind?"

    Ignoring her, he pushed his way into the open area and walked 
over to Jimmy Vargas, who was arguing with a couple of drunk 
spectators trying to get their money back.  Jimmy seemed happy at 
the distraction, pointedly turning his back on them when Fabian 
tapped him on the shoulder.  

    "If you want, I'll fight Basher right now.  You interested?"

    Jimmy looked him up and down.  "You know what you're doing?"

    "I used to fight for Simon Girardi, up in Anaheim."

    The promoter raised his eyebrows.  "A pro, 
huh?...Heavyweight?"

    "Cruiserweight.  Got my ass kicked by Aaron Pryor some years 
back, when he was on his way up."

    A smile spread over Jimmy's face.  "You don't say.  This might 
be fun.  I'm getting a little sick of Basher, to tell you the 
truth."  He turned around and shouted: "Hey Basher, this guy wants 
a piece of you!"

    The crowd started to cheer.  Mickey came over with the gloves 
Lonnie had been wearing.  "Brand new gloves, ain't hardly ever 
been used," he said with a chuckle.  "Hey Jimmy," Mickey 
continued, "you'll be mighty relieved to hear that your boy 
Lonnie's gonna pull through."  Jimmy just snorted.  Fabian took 
off his shirt and held out his hands, and Mickey started lacing 
the gloves on.  

    Basher came over and looked Fabian up and down with a sneer.  
"Gonna kick your ass, pretty boy."  

    Fabian smiled at him and said  "Be with you in a minute.  Why 
don't you go show off your biceps some more."

    "Gonna show you a world of hurt, asshole," said Basher.  "No 
mercy, you hear me?  No fucking mercy."  He pounded his gloves 
together for emphasis, then walked away.

    "All right," said Mickey, pulling the last lace tight.  "You 
all set.  I won't insult you by giving you no advice for this 
chump."

    "Thanks."  He took a couple of deep breaths and walked out to 
face Basher, who was waiting for him in the middle of the ring 
with his scowl firmly in place.  He jumped up and down a few times 
and fired off a few combinations into the air, trying to get 
warmed up a little. 

    "OK, let's get going," said Jimmy.  "You got a nickname, 
Fabian?"

    He opened his mouth to say "Fabulous Fabian Barnes" and then 
thought the better of it.  New career, new nickname.  "El Toro," 
he said, thinking of his lawn mower.

    "Ladies and gentlemen...we have a new challenger!  Fighting in 
his first beach brawl bout, wearing the faded blue jeans, from 
Anaheim...Fabian 'El Toro' Barnes!"

    The crowd hooted and whistled, and out of habit he raised his 
arms over his head and turned a full circle.  Mickey caught his 
eye and winked at him.

    "And by now you all know the reigning beach brawl champion, 
wearing the black trunks, now with a record of ten wins and no 
losses...Basher!"

    Jimmy blew a sharp blast on his whistle, and the crowd started 
to scream for blood.  Basher immediately rushed straight at him, 
trying to end it quickly.  It was a good strategy, in truth his 
only chance to win, but Fabian was expecting it and he dodged out 
of the way easily.  When Basher started to come at him again, he 
set his feet and fired three lightning-fast left jabs into his 
face that stopped him in his tracks.  

    "Hot damn!" he shouted.  His blood was singing; he felt more 
alive than he had in years.  "I still got it."

    Surprised but still game, Basher shook his head and kept right 
on coming.  His big, gleaming head made an inviting target, and 
Fabian was able to circle out of reach and rock him again and 
again with his left hand, puffing up both of his eyes and 
splitting his lip.  Basher didn't connect with anything but the 
outside of Fabian's arms.

    "Get the picture yet?" he asked sweetly, when his opponent 
stopped to catch his breath.  

    "Fuck you!"  Basher stepped up and launched a wild overhand 
right.  Fabian ducked under it and threw his first right hand of 
the fight, a vicious uppercut to the stomach that thudded home 
like a sack of cement falling off a truck. 

    The champion's eyes opened wide and he fell to his knees, 
unable to breathe.  After a moment of shocked silence, the crowd 
went crazy.  Then Basher fell over on his side and curled up into 
a fetal position, gasping weakly for air.  After a minute or so it 
became clear he wasn't going to get up, and Jimmy Vargas came out 
and blew his whistle.

     Fabian raised his arms and took a victory lap around the 
ring, accepting the cheers with a good-natured smile on his face.  
Jimmy Vargas caught up with him and slapped him on the back.  
"Yep, you're a fighter all right.  You got a future in this little 
dog-and-pony show.  We can make some money, you and me."

    "Sounds good to me," said Fabian.

    "Just let me know how to get a hold of you, I'll set you up 
with another fight right away."

    "Hold on!" said Mickey, shouldering his way through the crowd.  
"I'm the one you need to get ahold of, I'm his manager.  You want 
to deal with Mr. Fabian Barnes, you talk to me."  He handed Jimmy 
his card.  

    Jimmy looked amused.  "Mickey is your agent?" he asked Fabian.

    Fabian shrugged.  "Sure, why not."

    Jimmy put the card in his pocket and handed Mickey a paper 
bag.  "OK then, here's your cut from the take.  I'll be in touch." 

    It was getting dark out, and the crowd was starting to 
disperse.  They walked back to the parking lot and sat in Mickey's 
car to count the money. 

    "By the way, your lady friend took off before the fight, said 
she didn't want to see you make a fool out of yourself."

    "Hah.  That saves me some trouble."

    "Lookie here," said Mickey.  "We even got my hundred dollar 
bill back."  The total came to twelve hundred and seventy dollars.  

    "Not bad for two minutes of work," laughed Fabian.  He was 
still on a heart-pounding high.

    There was a knock on the window.  Two girls were standing 
there, both wearing skimpy bikini tops.  Fabian rolled down the 
window.

    "Omigod, like...congratulations!" said one.  

    "I totally can't believe you beat that guy," added the other.

    "Thanks, I appreciate that," said Fabian.  He looked back and 
forth between them, like someone trying to select a chocolate from 
a luscious assortment.  The one on the right had stringy blonde 
hair and small perky breasts.  The one on the left had stringy 
brown hair and heavy breasts.  Too close to call.

    "So are you both boxing fans?" he asked.  He heard a snort 
from Mickey, which he ignored.  The girls shrugged.  "Like, we are 
now," said the brunette brightly.

    "Hey, do you want a beer?" asked the blonde.  "We got a whole 
cooler full in our van."

    "Sounds great," said Fabian.  He looked at Mickey.  "We can 
settle up later, right?  You hang onto the cash for now."

    "No problem," said Mickey with a grin.  He was leaning forward 
in his seat, trying to get a better look at the girls.

    Fabian opened the door and got out, and the girls eyed his 
muscular chest and giggled.  

    "Pick a number between one and ten," said the brunette.

    "Three," said Fabian.  The brunette made a face, and the 
blonde laughed and clenched her fist.  

    "Great choice," said the blonde, taking his hand.  "Right this 
way.  See ya later, Kelli.  Oh, I'm Janice, by the way."

    "Nice to meet you, Janice.  Fabian."

    "El Toro," said Janice with a giggle.  

    As they walked away, Fabian heard Mickey say "How's it going, 
Kelli - I'm Fabian's manager."  

    The van turned out to be a custom job big enough to stand up 
in.  They climbed in and Janice had him sit down in the back.  
With a feeling of deja vu, he took the beer that she handed to him 
and drained half of it in one long pull.  "Thanks, that hits the 
spot."

    She finished pulling the curtains across the windows and sat 
next to him.  "You must work up quite a thirst, beating up guys 
like that."  

    "That's for sure," he said agreeably.  He looked at her 
curiously, wondering how this was going to play out.  She smiled 
at him and slowly pulled the string holding the front of her top 
together.  

    "It really turned me on seeing you hurt Basher like that.  
He's such an asshole, you know?"  The top fell away, revealing her 
small, cone-shaped breasts.  "Anyway, I'm just like a totally 
incorrigable slut," she said with a giggle.  "I hope that doesn't 
bother you."

    "If it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me," he said, 
amused.  He pulled her toward him, and she slithered into his lap 
with a little squeal of pleasure.  She smelled like suntan lotion 
and beer.  He kissed her and she opened her mouth under his and 
tried to lick his tonsils.  Sensing little need for foreplay, he 
put his hand between her legs and rubbed her pussy through the 
tight cotton fabric of her shorts, making her moan.

    "So what do you want to do?" she asked breathlessly.  

    "Let's see - can I fuck you up the ass?" he asked, meaning it 
as a joke.  

    "Um, I don't know... like how big are you?"  She squeezed his 
erection through his jeans.  "Wow, I don't know.  I guess we could 
try, if that's what you're into."

    "No, that's OK," he said gently.   No more jokes with Janice.  
He eased her down onto the carpeted floor of the van and helped 
her slide off her shorts.  Her pussy was shaved bare.  He took off 
his jeans and his sweat-soaked underwear and then lay down on top 
her, suddenly feeling that this little escapade was sort of 
distasteful, even for him.  Janice reached down and guided him 
inside her with practiced ease.  

    "Oh Fabian," she cooed.  "You're so big."

    And you're an airhead with no morals, he thought.  Then he 
felt guilty.  Who was he to be judging her?  He pistoned into her 
mechanically, supporting his weight with his arms so he didn't 
crush her narrow frame.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and 
ground her hips upward energetically to meet his.  As he might 
have expected, she was a good lay.  

    The male sexual response is not affected by silly moral 
considerations, and it wasn't long before he felt his climax 
approaching.  He really didn't feel like prolonging things, so he 
groaned loudly for effect and spilled his semen inside her.

    "Mmmm, that was a blast," said Janice, as he rolled off her 
and sat up.  It was hot and stuffy in the van, and suddenly all he 
wanted to do was get out of there.  "Hey, let's have another beer 
and then I'll roll us joint, ok?"

    "Um, I'd like to, Janice, but I really can't.  I'm in training 
- my manager would kill me."  He found his jeans and pulled them 
on, not bothering with the underwear.  

    "OK, like...whatever."  She watched in silence as he zipped up 
his jeans and slipped on his sneakers.  "So I'll see you around, 
OK?"

    "You bet, Janice."  He opened the sliding door and stepped out 
into the fresh air, leaving her lying there naked.  There was just 
enough light left to see that the back of Mickey's car was moving 
up and down rhythmically.  He sidled over to the back window and 
and peeked in.  Then he chuckled softly and walked back down the 
path toward the beach to wait.


(Continued in Part Two of three parts)

©1998 by DG (dionysian1@hotmail.com)


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