The Fighter

I was nineteen; it was summer. I met him on this crazy Saturday night. My friends were dragging me out to a fight in some abandoned bowling alley out by the pier. That should've been crazy enough but something started to change that night.

It was Dave and Pete's idea. We'd been buddies since we were little kids. They were really into boxing, like I'm-gonna-beat-the-shit-out-of-you boxing, and knew all about secret fights where dudes seriously fucked each other up. They wanted to get really big and be fighters. I thought that was really cool but I was five foot seven, one-twenty five wet. I could hold my own but you'd never see me get into a ring on purpose. But Dave and Pete, man, they were real into getting big.

We pulled up to the pier. The tires were grinding in the gravel and I was freaked out for a second that my car would get fucked up. It wasn't exactly my car. I got out in a hurry and checked the damage. This dude, Dingo, was fucking with me because I was being real fussy about the car. Then Dave and Pete started headed somewhere like they knew where they were going. So I followed them because I didn't.

On the front of a rotting cement hulk of a building, a broken neon bowling alley sign hung like it was gonna fall and crack you on the head. A bunch of shadowy guys were smoking butts out by the trees. The moon was kind of full and you could get a glimpse of a dude's face every now and then. They had that look guys get when everything is fucking perfect for just a second and you wanna feel it all as fast as you can.

Dave and Pete lit up a jay and Dingo went scouting around. We proceeded to get massively high. They were talking on and on about the different guys who were gonna be there and getting super technical about moves and stats and trades or whatever. They started arguing about something stupid, and I was glad when Dingo came back, pumped like he'd found out something crazy but he wasn't talking. He kind of came up real close to me and smiled. Then we went in.

You had to go through a bunch of double doors and steps and then you came down into a large open room. All the stripped-down alleys had stripes that ran into the darkness and disappeared. Someone had hung up some flood lights in the middle of the room. It was like one of those noir movies that my dad would make us watch, a giant pool of light and a raggedy circle taped on the ground, the air thick with smoke. Tough guys in sweats and wife beaters, pink ladies in jean jackets, and a bunch of old guys counting money.

Some big bald dude came up to us, flashing five with his baseball mitt hand. We paid up and went into the crowd. A couple of muscle bros were mauling on each other. We scanned the crowd, looking for the dudes who were gonna fight, trying to pick out the winners, moving through the crowd to get closer to the ring.

A mass of sweaty guys came like a flood between me and my buds. They were screaming something between a cheer and a war cry. My friends ended up on the other side of them but I didn't bother to go find them. I started wandering around. And that was when I saw this head floating above the crowd.

Buzz-cut brown hair, fucking ice cold blue eyes, sneering mouth. For a moment, those eyes were looking right at me. I was totally exposed and I didn't mind. I tried to move closer.

The fights were about to start and the antsy crowd knew it, tightening up and loosening at the smallest suggestion that something was gonna happen.

Dude was so tall. He had to be at least six foot six. No matter what the crowd did, I couldn't lose him, because there he was.

The crowd spread open and I could see all of him. Super tight blue tank top, defining each slash and curve of muscle bulging through the cotton, tightening to a narrow waist, shiny white trunks with a black band. His thighs were like telephone poles. You could see them sending signals with each move he made, as he shifted from one foot to the other. He was tight. Fuck, he was hot.

The creases around his bulge would change with each move and it became real clear that he was packing. His dick was fucking big. Can't-stop-looking-at-it big. He was a giant.

He caught my eye again for a second. I mean of course he did, I was staring right at him. I usually handle it a lot cooler but this guy was like a cartoon fighter, like something super exaggerated. I kept looking away then back at him.

He kept looking at me as I got closer and closer to him. When I bumped into him, he grabbed my hand and looked me in the eye.

He said, "Dude. Grab my big penis for luck."

Then he put my hand right over his bulge and smiled at me. The crowd was so thick that it didn't look odd how close we were. He took his hand away but I kept mine right where it was.

"Squeeze it, bro."

I looked at him and stretched my hand as wide as I could and squeezed his big penis. I felt his giant floppy dong start to harden in my hand.

"I'm gonna kick some ass tonight," he said, "and I want you to watch me do it. I wanna look out in the crowd and see you watching me, bro. And when I win them all, I want you to find me and grab my big penis again."

He walked backwards away from me so I could see his massive semi bulging out of his shorts, giving me that sneering smile. Then he turned around and walked into the crowd. I felt someone grab me from behind. I elbowed them hard.

"Fuck! Man! It's me!"

I turned around and it was Dingo, doubled over.

"Aww fuck man, sorry. You scared me."

I reached out to help him up but he pushed my hand away, laughing.

"Dude's tougher than he looks," he said to me, smiling. "Where've you been at? I was gonna tell you what happened before."

A loud fucking bell rang.

The first fights started and I worked my way ringside so I could watch Him. There he was, walking in to the ring. He'd changed into even tighter shorts and his raging boner was bulging out. Just this huge thing pulsing in his shorts for everyone to see. The guy he was fighting was freaked out. I couldn't stop laughing. Dave and Pete showed up and they thought the whole thing was weird, but Dingo thought it was kinda funny.

He fought three matches and they were all the same. He'd walk into the ring with his fat erection, waving it around, and that would freak out his opponent. When he'd see their face, he'd get this big dumb smile and scan the crowd. I was right up front and his eyes always landed on me and he'd squeeze his balls at me.

"Do you know that guy?" Dingo asked me. I shook my head but smiled. I'm a terrible liar.

A flash of movement brought me back to the fight. The fighter moved his whole body like it was one giant muscle, like he became a huge fighting boner that fucking pounded the other dude into a bloody pile of fighter meat.

After all the matches were over, I was feeling kind of shaky. This guy was intense. I decided to go home and maybe run into this dude again another time, maybe in the daylight? On a crowded street? I don't know why I was freaked out, but I was.

Halfway out of there, I'm with my friends when I heard, "Where you going?"

I looked over and there he was, sweaty, fucked-up looking, veins bulging, and still sporting a massive bone in his shorts.

"Come over here."

Dave and Pete were already out the door but Dingo looked at me. I shrugged and waved him off. It was useless to avoid it. I'd made a deal and if I didn't want to be some asshole like everybody else, I had to hold my end of it. I walked over to the fighter.

"Put your hand on my boner right now."

Paralyzed, I stood there like an idiot. Dingo stood there, looking at me funny. Then he finally left and walked outside. For all that it mattered, we were alone.

"Do it, bro."

I walked up to him. I reached out my hand and grabbed it. I don't know why I expected it to be like pulling the sword from the stone. But nothing happened. No one noticed.

"Feel my boner, bro."

I started to go up, all the way up, then back down on it, moving my hand slowly along the shiny fabric, feeling the heat from him. It had to be at least ten inches long. And so fucking thick, fucking obese, thick as my wrist, easy. I had never believed that a penis could really be this big. But on him, this giant fighter dude, it all made sense. Like of course this guy had a cock like a baseball bat.

"Don't take your hand off it."

He started walking toward me, making me walk backwards so I could keep a hand on his crotch. He maneuvered us like that, backing me into one of the side rooms, some old dusty office, and shut the door.

Alone in the dark room with only the flood light from the match bending itself through a filthy window, the fighter stared at me as I went up and down on his big fat penis.

He looked at me and nodded, like it was obvious what to do next. And I guess it was because I got on my knees in front of him and he looked down at me, smiling.

"Kiss the head."

I looked at his massive cock head, straining against tight white trunks, wet from sweat and precum. I could see the outline of his boner through the fabric. I could see blood spattered lightly over his shorts. I leaned in and kissed the head of his penis.

He put his hand under my chin and made me look at him.

"Say you love my big penis."

"I...I love your big penis."

"Kiss it and say that."

He looked at me deeper, "And don't stop until I tell you to."

"I love your big penis." Kiss.

"I love your big penis." Kiss.

"I love your big penis." Kiss.

"That's it," he said. "Just like that, keep going." He laid his hands behind his head and relaxed a little, while I gently kissed the head of his giant boner. I was totally lost in it, just kissing and saying those words, over and over and over again.

I felt his hands on both sides of my head, holding me in place, my lips crushed against his iron rod cock.

I realized that at some point I started holding my breath. I took a deep breath in. I smelled musk, honey, the black tea my uncle drinks. And something else.

But before I could name it, my head got real silent. Waves of boner scent rolled over me and I started to feel my body go limp.

He gently picked me up and laid me on my back on a desk, my head hanging over the side.

Upside down and all drunk on his big cock, I saw him take a step back, his thumb on his waistband. He slowly pulled his trunks down over his muscle thighs, until his huge erect penis popped out like boing right on my face.

The smell was intense, but not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. I mean the dude's been working all night. But it was sweeter than I thought, like honey and sour milk.

I was just hanging there, and my mouth hung open and just when it did, like he'd been waiting for it, he pushed the giant mushroom head of his boner into my mouth, like an apple in a stuck pig.

He put his hands on his hips, rocked them back and forth for a bit, moving the fat knob over my lips, pushing my mouth open, wider and wider until it was wide enough to push it in even deeper, down my throat. Then he started fucking my mouth. I did everything I could to keep my teeth out of the way, mostly cuz I didn't want him to get mad at me, but he seemed to like the scraping. At one point he pulled it out to the head and told me to bite it.

"Come on. Bite the head of my cock. Real hard. It can take it."

I bit down on his penis and he started laughing, making his massive pecs bounce in his tank.

"YEAH that's what I'm talking about. Bite my fucking penis."

I opened my mouth to bite his cock again but when I did he pushed his penis almost all the way down my throat. I started to choke and gag and I could feel that made him get even harder.

I tried to relax my throat and take it. I felt something further down my body. The fighter was flicking his finger on my rock hard cock. I was so fucking hard. He was doing that to show me that I liked this.

Did I like this? FLICK.

If my mouth hadn't been full of dick, I would have moaned. I liked this.

I started to relax even more. Every breath I let out, he pushed in deeper, my eyes watering, looking at him, my nose right against his pubes.

"You did it."

He sounded kind of surprised. He closed his eyes and just cradled my head against his body, occasionally patting my throat where his big penis lived now.

We stayed like that for a while, until I almost passed out . Then I felt a FLICK and I snapped back.

I felt him move back and forth, holding my head in his hands, fucking my throat. He tilted my head up a bit so I could breathe better through my nose and then drooled a long rope of spit right on my nostrils and laughed. I must've looked really dumb, sniffling on his spit with a mouth full of boner.

Then he really started pounding my throat, back and forth, getting really into it. Then it clicked that he was trying to cum. He was gonna shoot his sperm down my throat, into my belly.

He totally used my head to masturbate his huge penis. He grabbed my head, put one leg on the desk and really pounded my skull. I probably passed out a few times, but then he'd fuck me awake with his pumping cock and a FLICK.

All of the sudden he stopped. He was breathing heavy, focused.

"I'm gonna spray your throat with my seed."

I just looked at him.

"I'm seeding your throat with my babies. Everything you say, everything you eat, the air you fucking breathe, bro? Passes through me."

I blinked.

"You get that?"

I tried to nod. He laughed at me.

"Here I go."

Then he worked his hips, pumping steady, getting faster, he was looking at me, drooling on my face, laughing at me, until his eyes got crazy.

His hands clutched my head so tight, and he shoved his boner all the way in, thrusting deep.

I felt a burst of hot on the back of my throat. It was like lava spraying in my body. He thrust and thrust and thrust until he had emptied his massive load. He kept his cock lodged deep. I could feel all his sperm in my throat down into my belly.

He put a hand on my skinny abs and rubbed them.

"That's where I put my babies."

**********

Later that night, much later that night, I kept thinking about what he said: everything you say, everything you eat, the air you fucking breathe passes through me.

I knew it wasn't true. I knew I gave up nothing. But that's a fucked up game to play. So fucked up I was still hard and I couldn't jack off because it was too quiet in the house to make any noise at all.

**********

Couple nights ago, Dingo came over to my house looking for me. My brother thought Dingo was a stupid name and my dad thought he looked like a weirdo and my mom thought he was dirty. They kept asking me why he comes around looking for me. I kept telling them, we're friends, we hang out and they're like, well what do you do? Where do you go? And I'm like STUFF and THINGS and PLACES and it's not enough for them and I finally tell Dingo not to come by my house anymore, that we'll meet up somewhere else.

So last night I met Dingo near where he lives which is like a couple subways away and sometimes a bus too. And we're gonna meet up with some of his friends and drink forties and smoke jays and that'll be cool. I get there and it is actually really cool. Bunch of dudes there, mostly Dingo's friends, but I haven't met any of them.

Across the yard, behind some guy in a cowboy hat, I could see Dingo, standing there. Six-one, lanky as fuck, super tan with long-black hair, he was smiling and laughing, one hand behind his back, the other holding a beer. He had his tongue out at the corner of his mouth.

He's the kind of guy you can't totally tell when he's wearing clothes that he's jacked as fuck but at the beach it's always like where the fuck did that come from? Always in jeans, only in jeans. Always checking things out and looking for stuff and knowing a guy and having to do something real quick.

So I was sitting out in his backyard on a janky plastic chair. My shorts kept riding up, my thighs were sticking to the seat. I was feeling sweaty and buzzed, nursing a beer, when Dingo slipped into the chair next to me. He looked at me, high as fuck, and gave me a goofy smile.

"Hey bro."

I looked up at him, not sure what was up. He had his shirt off and his jeans hung low on his waist, so you could see his V outlined by the waist band of his underwear.

"Hey," I said.

He kinda looked down at his hands and then back at me and smiled. But it was all sly. This dude was fucked up.

Out of nowhere, he said: "Come inside, I wanna show you something."

He stood up and walked in the back door. He looked back at me. Was he flirting with me? I got up and followed him inside.

I get in his room, and he's rifling through a drawer in his night table.

"What's up?" I ask him.

"I got some amazing weed. Wanna smoke it with me?"

I laugh and sit on the bed.

"Sure."

He rolls up a spliff and we lie back on his bed and get extremely high. He leans over me to turn on the stereo and I can smell his sweat like beer and smoke and sperm. Something with a cool bass line came on.

"I wanna show you something," Dingo says.

He gets up and starts pawing through some laundry on the floor. I sit up on my elbows. He finds something in the pile and throws them at me. I hold them up: a tiny pair of pink bikini panties. I'm confused but I laugh.

"What are these?"

"I found them in my gym bag."

"You found them?"

"Put them on," Dingo says with a smile.

"You're high. You put them on."

"I would," he says, "but they wouldn't fit me. They'd fit you though."

I looked at them. Back at Dingo. I could see the head of his boner peeking out of the top of his jeans. I stood up and unbuttoned my shorts. They kind of slipped off. I was wearing a pair of blue briefs, tight but nothing crazy.

Dingo sat up, with his legs on either side of the corner of the bed. He'd unbuttoned the top of his jeans and I could see his brown bush. I pulled off my briefs and picked up the bikini. Dingo was just staring at me, his hands hanging on either side of his legs. I could see his boner sticking up out of his jeans.

I turned around and looked down at my feet. I picked them up and slipped the bikini on one foot at at a time. I stood there, bent over, with the panties around my ankles for a second, blood rushing to my head. I could hear Dingo groan behind me.

I snapped out of it and pulled them up, snapping it on my waist. I looked at myself in the mirror. My cock bulged out of the front, the top cutting really low into my shaved pubes with a little bow at the center. I hadn't noticed that before, the bow. The back barely covered my ass, my cheeks exposed.

"You like them?" I said to Dingo, turning around.

He had his jeans unzipped and his long boner sticking straight up in his lap. Still not touching it. Still staring at me.

"Yeah."

I liked that dumb look on his face.

"Sit back a bit on the bed," I said. He did.

I sat on his lap, my back to his chest, my ass on his boner. I could feel it hot through the fabric against my hole. He reached around and started playing with my nipples while I squirmed and jiggled in his lap. He kept making these sexy dumb deep voice moans, and that'd make me crazy and I worked my cheeks against him.

He kept tweaking and flicking my nipples, making them hard. Dingo looked over my shoulder at my hard nipples, "They're so perky."

And then we both laughed and I moved up and down on his penis.

"You like my perky tits?"

He tweaked them hard.

"Uh-huh." And laughed. "Can you feel my boner?"

He pushed himself hard against me.

"Yup," I said. "It's a big boner."

He reached down and put his hands on my ass. He slid his finger underneath the cotton and found my hole.

"It's smooth," he said. "You shave it?"

I nodded.

He took his finger out and licked it. Then put it back where it was. I felt it tickle my hole. He tickled my hole and made my lips all puffy. Then he pulled his finger out and pushed me back on his boner.