Delpha And The Pugilists

DISCLAIMER: This story depicts graphic sexual acts. All characters are over the age of 18, and all sexual acts depicted are consensual.

1

Bull and Matador

Heavyweight champion DeMonte Wildone threw a left hook to feint, and when his unfortunate sparring partner dropped his guard and moved to counter, DeMonte's straight right hand found its home: flush to the chin. The legs of his opponent buckled, sending the immense reptile man into the void of unconsciousness. The lizard could camouflage, and he'd been hit so hard, that his skin flickered from one vibrant shade to the next as his nervous system reeled.

"Next," DeMonte bellowed, stepping over the twitching form of his felled opponent. He paced from one end of the ring to the next, looking to his coach to send the next lamb to slaughter. His bovine tail lashed behind him, and clouds of steam puffed from his flared nostrils with every exhale.

Floyce, his coach, argued with a nervous-looking sparring partner, trying to convince the young prospect to step in the ring with the champion.

"I'll pay you double for today," DeMonte intervened, his bloodlust eroding his already limited patience. "Get your pussy ass in here and handle your shit." Hearing the challenge to his manhood, the young pup came in. Lean and canine, DeMonte's new sparring partner looked light and quick. He observed as the wolf man warmed up, fluttering his jab and following up with whistling uppercuts that flowed into formidable hooks.

This one is deceptively powerful

.

DeMonte grinned and scraped his hooves back in his instinctual, yet signature gesture. He added a few stamps for effect that made the ropes lining the ring vibrate. The wolf popped in his mouthpiece and advanced, his guard high.

DeMonte stomped once more before charging in. The raging bull closed the distance and swarmed his opponent. Instantly, he stripped the guard of the lighter fighter and clubbed him with a shot behind the ear. The wolf thudded and slept before being dragged out.

"Next," DeMonte barked. The entirety of his form emanated heat as his rage ramped up. Anytime he fought, a berserking fury overcame him. That's why he was so good. He turned his mind off and let his instruments of destruction lay waste to whomever dared stand before him. Each of the men he faced in the ring met the exact same end. But it was never enough. He always craved more violence anytime he had the opportunity to inflict pain. And any one of the skittish fools who remained could get it.

The black bull looked to the battered fighters, his tree trunk arms up in a taunting gesture. His head swam with rage, and red tinted his vision.

"Now, I know that can't be it! All we got is scrubs in here?" They all averted their eyes from him as his imposing gaze fell upon them. "Floyce, get your punk ass in here. Let's see if you still got it, old champ." Floyce had been the super welterweight champion years ago. Had DeMonte been of clearer mind, he wouldn't have risked his coach's health by issuing such a challenge. But when he got this bloodlusted, only one thing could bring him back to his senses.

Floyce, seeing the state of his fighter, knew he ventured into the bad place. He would step in to ensure none of the other fighters got hurt. Floyce knew he could stall the bull long enough. After accepting the callout from the berserking champ, he turned to his nervous-looking assistant coach.

"Call her in," Floyce said, gesturing to an aid to lace a pair of gloves onto him. Ducking under the ropes, the former welterweight champ stood toe-to-toe with the heavyweight champion of the world.

"Torro! Torro!" He taunted, playing the role of matador.

DeMonte charged.

2

The Demigoddess

Delpha the demigoddess popped a bubble of gum as she had her pussy railed from behind in the backseat of an SUV. Propped up by the window, she rested her head on her arms as the rough pumps of the wolfman sent waves of pleasure down her body. A lazy smile spread across her expression, and her red eyes rolled back as she enjoyed the healthy endowment of her canine client.

The sound of his excited panting fogged the windows, and she felt his claws digging into the soft flesh of her ass. Her pussy gripped the canine rod, the light pink of her walls a contrast to the raging red of his cock. Quicker with every thrust, his pelvis smacked against the large cushion of her booty, making the massive cheeks ripple.

Before long, it was too hot with the vaporous exhales of their lubricious breaths. With her lupine lover still balls deep inside her, Delpha opened the door, letting in a cold breeze of fresh afternoon air.

"Mmmm, lay back Daddy," she cooed to him. "Let me take a spin on this red rocket 'till it blasts off inside me." Giggling, she felt him lie back, pulling her with him. She spun around and felt his cock rotate inside of her. The tip pressed firmly against her cervix, but she knew she could take him deeper.

"There we go," she said, feeling the pointy knot of his cock push past her cervix and lodge itself into her womb. To most women, taking a member this foreign and this deep would be painful, but Delpha was built different.

Moving her hips, Delpha rode him, running her hands down his muscular chest, lacing her fingers through his thick auburn fur. She looked into his golden eyes, laughing at his expression. Like a dog about to be taken for a walk, he beamed up at her, his long pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he panted.

"Fuck, I'm so close," he growled. "Ughhh, I think I just knotted in you." He had. As she tried more of her sultry movements, she found it a tad difficult to ride him as his cock lodged into her and refused to withdraw. To accommodate this, she adopted a more back and forth movement of her hips.

"Oooooh, that's a good doggie!" She scratched his belly and hilariously felt his leg twitch.

"Ahem," She heard over her shoulder. Squeaking in surprise, she turned her head to see Vixle, Floyce Aprilclimate's assistant coach. The gecko guy watched her, his wide mouth agape.

"Hey lizard boy," she said in her smooth, smoky voice. "You'll have to wait your turn." She turned back to her wolf man, grinding her hips back and forth. Her pale, bubble-round asscheeks flexed and released as she worked him.

"That's not why I'm here..."

"Oh no," she sighed. "Your boy needs warming down, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, he needs to stick to the old schedule," she protested. "He knows I'm unavailable at these times. I've cleared that with Floyce I don't know how many times."

"Could we maybe..." began the wolf.

"Hush, Daddy," Delpha said. Lifting one leg at a time, she spun around to look at Vixle while she continued to reverse ride her client.

"He needs to understand that he isn't my only line of income. I'm a working girl with lavish tastes, so I have to be out here

earning

. I can't be at his beck and call 24/7." She reached up and kneaded her heavy tits, feeling their weight in her palms.

"He's got a big fight coming up," Vixle explained, too stressed to be uncomfortable by her multitasking. "So he's been training non-stop. More than usual. He's been sparring today, and we need you to come do your thing with him so that we can make sure our other fighters don't have soup for brains after this afternoon."

"I want triple what I get for a normal session," Delpha argued.

"We can do double," Vixle countered.

"You can fuck right off, then."

"

Alright

," The gecko resigned. "Triple is fine. Just come quickly."

"Maybe say that to him," Delpha smirked, gesturing with her thumb to the wolf underneath her. "Alright," she said, reaching out with both of her hands. "You gotta help me off this."

With a look of surprise, Vixle hesitated before reaching out and taking her hands. He tugged, but she wouldn't move.

"Come on, lizard boy. Put your tail into it." Putting his foot on the running board of the truck, Vixle pulled harder before an audible

PLOP

sounded. Delpha, free from the knot, fell on top of him. Their bodies sprawled on the hot asphalt of the parking lot.

"What the fuck, bitch," the wolf said, sitting up. "I

paid

for your time, hoe, and you're just going to bounce right when I'm about to bust?"

"Don't be like that, doggie," she said, reaching into the backseat floor to retrieve the jumper she had worn before and her shoes. "I'll make it up to you. You know where I stay. Come by later tonight, and I'll give you two freebies. You and anyone you might want to bring with you," she added with a wide grin and a wink. Seemingly satisfied, the wolf moved to dress as well.

Delpha dressed in the empty lot. She wriggled herself into the white jumper she wore. Stepping into it, she pulled it over the thickness of her thighs and hips. The smooth material stretched over her bodacious lower body. Putting her arms through the sleeves, she pulled the fabric skin-tight over her nude double Fs. The taut elasticity of her outfit held her tits in place, and her nipples poked through the shiny material. Moving to one of the windows, she reordered her ruby red hair, running her fingers through her bangs that had separated into sweaty strands from her tryst. Her mirror was taken as her spurned client sped off, so she slipped on her matching white sneakers and went to join Vixle where he waited at his car.

3

Champ Shit Only

Floyce slipped another right that, had it landed, would have decapitated him. Digging a quick counter hook at DeMonte's ribs, he made a lateral step and reclaimed the center of the ring. The humanoid feline had spent his entire career dominating with his defensive chops, and this was no different. His left arm wrapped around his torso in a shell guard, and his own right hand sat right near his ear, ready to zip out and tag the raging bull who chased him around the ring.

Parrying DeMonte's piston for a jab, Floyce landed another straight punch to the body and rushed in to clinch the bull before the champ could start swinging wild punches. Having the vastly superior strength, DeMonte muscled him off and ate a few sharp jabs before Floyce danced away from danger.

Blood roared in DeMonte's ears and he let out a moo of anger before charging at the cat. He came upon him with such swfitness, even Floyce couldn't react. A lead left hook clipped Floyce's chin, dropping him.

Floyce saw the huge bull tower over him, and he raised his hands, fully expecting his fighter to rain vicious ground and pound. When DeMonte got this rage drunk, he forsook the fighter's code.

However, to Floyce's surprise, he remained conscious. Peeking from behind his guard, he looked up at DeMonte. The bull's bloodshot eyes fixed upon something in the distance. Floyce looked over his shoulder and saw Vixle walking in with the red woman. He let out a heavy sigh of relief, untying the laces of his gloves with his fangs.

"Get me a waiver and lace me up, boys," Delpha said as she swayed up to the ring. "I'm going toe-to-toe with the reigning, defending champion of the world!" She raised her fists to the group of lumpy faced sparring partners who watched her with silent, pained expressions. "Tough crowd," she said, moving up to the ring. She folded her arms on the ledge of the ring and put her chin on them. Behind her, the swell of her ass swayed behind her, looking like she smuggled balloons in the white jumper she wore.

DeMonte simply stared at her, his chest heaving from his workout. He remained volatile, but something about this woman soothed the unbridled fire of his rage.

"Big Daddy's lookin' every bit the prize fighter that he is," Delpha said at DeMonte, making a show of looking him up and down. She reached out a hand to Floyce, and he helped her into the ring. Delpha prowled to DeMonte. Her red eyes met his, and she smirked as the bull melted a bit. He couldn't resist her, and she had a profound ability to abate his rage.

DeMonte towered over Delpha, as her head just barely met the line of his chest. A strong hand gripped the top of her head, and she fell to her knees as DeMonte forced her down.

"Right to it, I see. Fuck the plesantries, yeah?"

"Shut your fucking mouth and do what you're paid to do."

"Yes, sir. I know just the way to shut this big mouth of mine." Biting her bottom lip, she tugged at the waistline of his shorts and slid them down his hips. The veiny trunk of his cock sprung free. It stood 16 inches from his body and twitched as blood roared through the worm sized veins that squiggled up and down the black member. It bragged a girth thicker than her forearm, a comparison that both of them loved to see. Here and there, little splotches of white dotted the shaft, rising to the wide plateau of his tip.

Delpha took the black bovine cock in her hands, her jaw dropping in awe. She had never gotten accustomed to just how fucking huge he was. The pallid flesh of her dainty hands contrasted with the rough black leather of his shaft. Playfully, she smacked her face with the colossal member, falling over to feign that she had been knocked out.

"She's down," she mocked, giggling before resuming her position on her knees.

Delpha moved her plump lips to the flat tip. Using the tip of her tongue, she lapped up the strands of clear slime that trickled out and teased his cock glands with heavy, wet smooches. She felt his hand at the back of her head again, urging her to take him in her throat, and she happily obliged.

DeMonte groaned with pleasure as Delpha descended on his cock, taking in half of his length with the first movement of her skilled neck. The bitch had to have the jaws of a snake to take his cock so comfortably; always able to deepthroat him, a feat no other creature claimed. Those wet cheeks hugged his rod, and a shockwave of pleasure forced him to shudder as she started bobbing her head. More of that salty precum shot down her esophagus.

"Damn girl," he said, his voice low. "You know just how to handle a black bull, don't you?"

Delpha came up to answer his question."Mmmm, of course, Big Daddy. I've been to

many

rodeos." She resumed, quickening her pace and taking more and more with each movement.

Instead of the rapid thunder of fists against punching bags, the slurping sounds of sloppy oral sex filled the gym. The downed fighters watched in envy as their assailant was rewarded with some of the best head that they had ever seen. Instinctually, they moved to adjust their own hardening cocks that pushed against the soft fabric of their shorts.

Delpha polished the champ's cock, taking him from tip to base with every movement. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she devoured the haunch of delicious cockmeat. Slobber bubbles formed along the coal black shaft, and ropes of spit seeped from the sides of her mouth. Periodically, she held her head at his base, letting his girth bulge her slender throat. Spots formed in her vision, so she came up gasping. Though, she kept her lips fixed upon his head, nurturing the sensitive tip with the indulgent suction of her lips and the deft licks of her tongue.

Her lower back arched to pop her ass out behind her. At least she would give the others a bit of a show. It seemed they had a rough day, so she twerked a little for them as she worked. Twitching her ample cheeks one after the other before flexing both simultaneously. Little claps sounded as her jouncing buttcheeks collided.

DeMonte groaned, looking down at Delpha as she sucked all but the soul from the tip of him. Those red eyes looked up to him, wide and luminous. The whites went bloodshot from choking herself on him, and the meticulously painted makeup streaked down her cheeks in black rivulets. Threads of her spit dripped from the corners of her mouth. Those lewd gagging sounds drove him wild. He always loved boisterous sluts like this one. Smiling, he reached down and curled a strand of crimson hair behind her ear.

"Mmmmm, fuck. I'm about to bust, baby." All the rage had left his voice, and he spoke to her with a tinge of adoration that surprised everyone. Inside his head buzzed a calm static, and his clogged nuts gave a drastic twitch.

"Daddy's got a fountain for his baby girl," he said, stroking her hair.

"A nice tasty shake for me?"

"Oh fuck," he gasped, clasping her head and holding him at her tip as he went off like a fire hose in her mouth.

Delpha grasped his cock, jerking him where his tip met his shaft in quick twisting motions. He exploded in her mouth. Even she struggled a bit to drink every drop. Her throat moved beneath the flesh of her neck in quick, healthy gulps as she chugged the hot seed. Some of the precious white ropes flowed from her mouth, but Delpha was careful to drink as much as possible.

DeMonte felt his mind clear as he unloaded his balls down her throat. He shivered as his cock wilted out of her mouth. Looking over to their audience, he snorted a laugh and reached down to pull his pants back up.

Delpha's vision went white as the towel Floyce chucked at her wrapped around her face. Laughing, she wiped away the drops she'd missed. At the end of the ring, Vixle made three stacks of shiny gold coins. Delpha rolled onto her belly and slid them into her own coin purse, cinching it tight.

"Thank you, kindly," she said, standing. Moving over to the sparring partners who moved to resume their concussed workouts, she formulated her proposition.

However before she could speak, she felt herself being spun around and lifted into a tight embrace. DeMonte's snout pushed through the thick curtain of her hair, taking in the tropical smell of her shampoo, the coconut oil on her pasty skin, and the leathered scent of his musk.

Delpha kicked her legs out behind her, letting out a tittering laugh. She felt ground beneath her again as he placed her down.

"Thank you, darling," DeMonte purred, his eyes as innocent as a calf's.

"Any of your boys need a good warm down," Delpha asked. "A girl could really make her rent here."

DeMonte's eyes darkened, and the smooth pets he gave her morphed into a firm handful of her silky tresses. Delpha grimaced in pain. Floyce stepped over.

"You belong to me, bitch. Only me. I'm the only man who can handle your wild ass, and the

whole

of you is in my possession. I pay your bills, not those fucking dregs you let inside of you for a few silvers. See them." He gestured to the fighters, using his puppet master grip on her hair to force her to look as well.

"Those are what we call tomato cans. Contender scrubs who want to take everything from me. Sure, they help me now, but when this Saturday comes and goes, and the announcer yells 'and STILL', they will all gun for me and mine. I will not share my pet with them and risk getting their loser taint onto you."

Delpha narrowed her eyes at him.

"Your

what?

" she scoffed. His pet.

He fucking wishes.

After her lovers came, Delpha always stopped being the pet and resumed being her own self.

DeMonte's grip tightened and tiny clouds of steam drifted from his flared nostrils.

"Did I fucking stutter, you brainless bimbo?" On a dime, his rage flared. "You know what, whore?" He spun her around and shoved her into the ropes. The rubber strands stretched, and her head whipped forward, but was pulled back as DeMonte stepped behind her.

"Just for that shit, Ima split that phat shitter you got open right in front of the scrubs. Show them who has claimed this mystic whore." He forced her over, landing a painful slap to her spandex clad rump.

Tears began to well in Delpha's eyes and shame heated her body.

Floyce jumped in. "What the fuck is your problem," he snarled up at his fighter. DeMonte's eyes widened in surprise. "You're letting a hoe make you act like a straight fucking punk. Step the hell back. No pussy

or booty

before a fight. You're already risking your shit by having her suck you."