Grunting as we struggle, I pull my hand back and ball a fist sending it into your stomach, once, twice, three times in quick succession, as I do your knee connects and I hiss out as I try to control my breathing. Moving forward into you I grab your thigh and lift it trying to pull you off your feet, my hand in your hair yanking at your crown pulling your head backwards
The constant tugging of my red locks is brutal and tiring, but it also fuels my fire. Twisting to the side I continue my attack on your cheap Primark vest top. Pulling down and to the left, the fabric on one strap gives way and soon the other does too. I pull the top down to your hips, revealing your tanned and toned stomach and a surprinsingly expensive looking sports bra. But what's a nice vase if you put nothing much in it, I think to myself.
Turning my attention back to your solid looking stomach, I ball up a skinny white fist and slam several blows straight into it. With each hard attack it gives way a little more and I get a real sense that I'm beginning to hurt you.
I want to move back and try a punch to your pretty but basic face, but my movement is hampered by you still tugging on my hair and the pain you are inflicting. I manage to get a few badly aimed upper cuts to connect under your chin and I feel your grip loosen. I spring back and we begin to circle each other. Eyeing you, I jealously regard your toned shape but note it's more boyish than me, with small boobs and no ass to speak of. As we continue to circle I pull off my own sports bra to show you my large firm and supple boobs as a fuck you gesture and a show of my confidence over you. My tits feel amazing when freed from my bra; huge and I can feel my nipples stiffen and become alert in the unlit chill of an empty gym. We circle each other, clawing at the air between us.
"Come on you Northern slut."
