Me and my two best friends all turned 18 around the same time, and my rich buddy Steve’s dad paid for the three of us to visit a brothel in Nevada - it was a few hour’s drive over the state line, and we spent the time it took getting there browsing the brothel’s website on our phones, trying to decide what we’d get. Steve was the most excited and picked his right away, the “Naughty Cheerleader,” who the website promised would take her underwear off and do a split on your face. Rich was driving, so we had to read the site to him; he settled on “Submissive Substitute,” a nerdy-looking middle aged brunette wearing thick glasses, a mom sweater and a long skirt pretending to be a horny substitute college professor. (Why she’d be teaching one person I wasn’t sure, but I guess you had to suspend your disbelief a little.) When it was my turn, Steve started flipping through the pop culture section. It was big - you could get anything from Aela the Huntress from Skyrim (with werewolf fursuit for an upcharge) to being interrogated by Black Widow from the Avengers to Zatanna “cast[ing] a spell on your magic rod!” I almost went for that last one until my eye fell on “Bare Knuckle Goth MILF Boxing”; it was too weird not to tap on the link.
Up came a brief description I ignored in favor of going right to the pix at the bottom. The woman pictured was a very pretty goth wearing heavy makeup and a purple dress, down which the camera obligingly looked as I flipped through the image gallery. After admiring her tits, I scrolled back to the earlier pictures; what really struck me were her large, deep, spooky dark eyes staring out of the phone. The effect was enhanced by her full face of makeup - thick black eyeliner, dark rogue, and red wine lipstick. Her eyes were big, but the rest of her facial features were small - she had a long, thin nose and a petite heart-shaped mouth. Her hair was jet black streaked with bubblegum pink, thick and slightly curly, past her breasts. She was a big woman, tall and curvaceous; I scrolled up to read the text, which should contain her measurements. The description promised, in an overblown style, a bare-knuckle erotic boxing match against Gemma, the woman in the pictures. It called her a MILF, although it listed her age at 34, which seemed kind of young to me, as well as a goth, which seemed fair enough; her height was listed as five eleven, which would make her as tall as me, and her weight was 141 pounds, which seemed low for a woman her size - but then I figured if they were going to lie, why not round her height up to six feet? Hmmm. Steve had noticed me concentrating - apparently I have a scowl when I’m thinking hard - and yanked the phone out of my hands.
“Is this what you’re picking? ‘Do you dare to step into the parlor…’” he skimmed the text. “Dude, what is this? You don’t want to do like She-Hulk or something?”
“No, I really want to try this.”
“Okaaayyyyyyyy… you sure? There’s other cheerleaders, bro -”
“I’m really sure.”
“All right, I’m gonna make the reservations now. Everyone good?”
We all were and Steve booked the three appointments. After we arrived and checked in, Steve handed out the cash to everyone and we split up. Steve went off to have his face sat on, Rich headed up to what he told me later was a pretty good recreation of a college classroom, and I went up to the fourth floor, down a long hallway to room 428. I took a deep breath and knocked.
"Come in," a syrupy feminine baritone beckoned me. I opened the door and stepped into the room from the pictures, a black and purple-striped Gothic parlor lit by candles. Waiting for me there was Gemma, wearing the same dress from the website, a small, genuine smile on her face, and her large eyes fixed on me.
“Hi, are you Kyle?” I nodded. “Gemma.”
“That’s a nice name.”
“It’s fake,” she grinned, “But, thank you.” She offered one pale hand, her fingers long and elegant, dark nail polish shining in the candlelight. I shook, hoping she couldn’t tell how sweaty my palm was. “Are you nervous?” I nodded again. “Okay. Well, Kyle, I have to ask, are you a virgin?” Another nod. “Is this your first boxing match?” This time I got to shake my head.
“My dad showed me how to box. I’ve been in a few amature matches, nothing too serious.” “Good. I just ask because some guys think they want to do this, then they get punched in the face and it doesn’t seem so fun. Now I want you to get what you’re paying for - you had gloves on in all your matches, right?” I nodded. “Well, it’s a little different bare knuckle, so if I hit you and you want to back out, I’ll give you a refund, or at least until we’ve exchanged five or six punches.”
“Okay, thanks.”
"All right, so I need a moment to get ready. Why don't you take your clothes off?"
"Everything?"
"You can keep your socks on if your feet are cold."
Gemma went into a back room and I took everything off. My feet weren’t cold - it was a little warm, actually - and I stood there erect with nerves for a second before Gemma came back out, naked except for a black corset wrapped around her midsection. It wasn’t really covering much up; it left her crotch exposed - completely shaved, I noted - and stopped underneath her big milk-white tits, which hung down over it, topped with large, pink nipples.
“Well, looks like you’re ready,” she glanced at my hardon. “So, rules. We're fighting bare knuckle, as you can see. Hits are allowed anywhere; I'm probably not going to go below the belt on you much, but you can hit me there or in the tits, don’t worry. We'll go until one of us can't beat a ten count - no ref, so we’ll just count ourselves. Is that okay with you?" I nodded. "So, after the fight, we'll have some fun - winner's in charge. Is that okay with you too?" I nodded again. “Any questions before we start?” I shook my head no and Gemma put her fists up; I did likewise and we closed.
Gemma started with a fairly standard opening, staying at range and tossing jabs, probing my defenses; I adopted a pretty common technique to start as well, looking to close in on her, planning to work her body and weaken her up for the knockout. That plan lasted through a few quick exchanges of light hits; Gemma’s corset seemed to be slowing her down a bit, and in return for taking a stiff jab to the face I got in close and slammed my right hand into her midsection. It felt like I’d punched a wall and I took a step back, shaking my aching hand and trying not to cry.
“God damn! What’s in there, armor plate?”
"Steel ribbing," she smiled.
"Isn't that uncomfortable?"
"You get used to it. Is your hand okay?”
“I think so.” I formed it into a fist; it hurt, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t keep using it.
“You let me know if it starts bothering you, okay?” I nodded and we closed up.
I had to reassess my strategy on the fly; her underbust corset covered her whole midsection from below her tits down to maybe a half inch above her pussy, and this whole area was now off limits. That left her crotch, boobs, or head and nothing else. Those weren’t a lot of options, and not wanting to punch her tits off or pound her pussy black and blue, I decided to go headhunting, coming in on Gemma flashing jabs and hooks at her face. At least her corset seemed to be restricting her movement a bit; she blocked most of my punches, but when she tried to duck or weave she tended to be a bit slow, and I managed to tag her with a few light hits to the face. I stuck on her, focusing more on speed than power, trying to keep landing hits fast enough to stop her from counterpunching. This was working, but I wasn't doing much damage; Gemma would wince or grunt, but I just wasn't getting enough force in to do more than redden her cheeks (and I wasn't sure if I was even really doing that or it was just her rouge). I'd have to change tactics; maybe I could get a combo going, opening with more of the light hits I was able to safely land and working towards a more powerful hit. To start I got her with a quick left hook, setting up a slower, more powerful right, but she saw this coming - my left didn't have enough on it to stun her, and she intercepted my forearm with her own, cutting my punch short. In return she buried her left in my stomach. I froze, pain exploding from where she'd hit me; she reared back for a straight right, and by the time I was recovered enough to move it was too late. My opponent’s fist sailed through my hands, smashing into my mouth. Unlike me, she was able to get all of her weight into a punch, and the next thing I knew I was laying on my back staring up at the floor, tasting blood. I figured I'd take a minute to catch my breath and try and think of a new strategy, hoping Gemma would count slowly.
She didn't count at all, walking up between my legs, catching my half-hard cock between her two biggest toes. She started slowly moving her foot as I got hard.
"Aw, poor baby. You seem to be having a tough time. Do you want the corset off?"
"Yeah," I gasped as she slid her foot all the way up, teasing my tip with her toes, before sliding back down.
"Okay, well, you better get up first, or I'm just going to finish you like this."
"In a minute."
"I'm not sure you have a minute; I can feel it twitching already. Be honest, is this what you really want? You want to spurt all over my toes?"
"No," I grunted. I wiped my mouth and stood as Gemma turned her back to me.
"Can you unhook me?"
I did - as the last of the heavy steel clamps came unbound, the corset slid off, hitting the ground with a thunk. Gemma sighed in relief as I got an eyeful of her full-back tattoo, a heavily shaded scene of judgement day, a skeletal angel of death descending from her neck blowing a trumpet, her lower back a huge pile of bones, the space in between filled with the four horsemen and lamenting human figures. "Everything okay back there?"
"Oh, yeah. Uh, just admiring your ink."
"Thanks," she turned around with a smile, nudging the corset away with her foot. "Okay, you ready?" I nodded and we backed off a few steps to start the match again.
We closed up and I figured that Gemma would be expecting me to go after her now-open midsection; instead I lunged at her tits, aiming a right at her big left breast. But without her corset she was fast, leaning backwards away from my fist; she came back at me with a wickedly quick uppercut I barely managed to catch on my forearms as I backed up. Damn, she was agile - I didn't think a woman her size could move like that, but she started almost literally dancing circles around me, using her footwork to come in, unleash a half dozen crushing hooks and straights, then back up, change position and come in again. I could just about block or dodge her punches - she was staying far enough away so I could see her fists coming early - but I was getting tired, sweating and panting; her constant angle of attack changes were keeping me off guard, and I knew it was only a matter of time before one of her punches got through. Because she was staying at long range, I doubted I could surprise my opponent with a punch; she'd be able to see it was coming, and I was sure she'd be able to neutralize my attack and punish me in return.
But what else could I do? I decided I'd have to take one of her hits in return for getting close; I ducked under a right hook aimed at my jaw and charged, bracing myself as best I could and eating a stiff left to my stomach, powering through the pain with a gasp, managing to surprise Gemma by wrapping her up in a clinch, squeezing her body as hard as I could. She clinched me back, surprising me in turn as she leaned forward and kissed me, forcing her tongue into my mouth. Forgetting where I was I tried to back up, but with the two of us squeezing each other I just ended up pulling us both a step back. Gemma yanked me to the side, and for a moment we stumbled around the room, french kissing, trying to crush the fight out of the other, and trying to push each other up against the wall. On one blind step back I tripped, taking us both down, breaking the kiss and the clinch as we landed awkwardly, me on the bottom, Gemma on top; she rolled off me and we both got up, raising our fists. To my disappointment Gemma went right back to her strategy, staying at long range and using her footwork to dip into range, unleash a half dozen punches, and dip out; I had the speed to match her but not the experience. Well, I could repeat myself too; I charged her again, but this time she was ready, staggering me back with a massive right hook to the jaw that spun me around. I landed on all fours, panting; Gemma came up behind me, reaching between my legs, milking my cock while counting slowly. Torn between needing to recover a little and needing to not cum, I let her get to six before I got up, hoping she wouldn't go back to her same strategy a third time.
She did; I guess I can't blame her as it was pretty clear I had no answer for these tactics. I frantically tried to think of something else to try, but before anything occured to me I missed blocking a straight left to the face, and I flinched as her knuckles smacked into my mouth. That pause was all the opening my opponent needed to come in and slam a heavy right into my stomach; acting on instinct my hands dropped, and Gemma turned my head with a left hook, then the other direction with a right; I reeled backwards and she came on, hunching me over with another hit to the stomach, then straightened me out with a finishing uppercut. I took two ragged steps back before falling over, landing heavily with a grunt. This time I was pretty out of it; Gemma really popped her hips when delivering those hooks, and she had hit me with enough force to knock me a bit silly. The next thing I knew my opponent was standing between my legs again, pressing her long foot against my cock, which had stayed hard through the punishment I’d taken.
“Aah, Kyle. It doesn't seem like you're doing any better. Do you want the corset back on?"
"Please," I moaned.
“All right, you’ll have to help me with it again. Assuming you can get up now.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Sure, okay.” Her foot was at an angle against my shaft, rubbing up and down. It felt great, and although she started counting slowly, I doubted I’d make it to ten without cumming anyway. I let her get to six before I couldn’t take any more and got up. I’d never put a corset on before, but under Gemma’s instructions it was pretty easy, and she was quickly cinched tight back into it. We faced off and instead of waiting to see what she was going to do I tried to stick on her, not letting her get to long range, unloading a flurry of fast jabs at her tits and head. This had worked pretty well at the beginning of the fight, but I was tired and beat up and I’d lost some speed; luckily Gemma was breathing hard as well, and her corset was slowing her down as I scored with several hits to her chest and face. Unsurprisingly, the punches to her boobs seemed to be making more of an impact; I found my hands drifting down, more and more of my punches aimed at her big pale tits and less at her head, until I was exclusively boxing my opponent’s breasts. Luckily they were huge targets - if she held her hands over the center, I could come in underneath with short uppercuts, and if she moved her hands down I just hooked my punches into the sides of her tits. Despite Gemma’s best efforts to cover up, I always had an opening. She stood toe to toe with me for a half dozen punches, then it was too much and she started backing up. I followed her, trying to strike a balance between sticking on her, keeping her hurt and winded, mindful of rushing into a trap; it worked as I backed Gemma up so her back hit the wall. I slapped an uppercut into her right breast, knocking it straight up, then slammed a hard right hook into her jaw. Gemma leaned forward, her hands grasping my shoulders. This would have been the perfect opportunity to start slamming lifting punches into her stomach, except of course her corset was in the way. But, seeing as how we were fighting without gloves, another opportunity presented itself to me. I slid my right hand between her legs, the tips of my fingers brushing her pussy. She was wet - was she a masochist who enjoyed getting hit in the tits? Was that why she’d told me it was okay at the beginning of the match? Whatever the case, I was determined to make the most of this; I slid a finger in and started pumping her, then two, as she leaned against me and laid her head on my shoulder, panting into my ear. For a moment I thought she was just going to let me keep doing this to her, but she seemed to recover her wits shortly and grabbed my cock in return, getting a reverse grip with her index finger and thumb at the base as she started jerking me off.
This was a contest I couldn’t win; she had too much of a head start on me, and although I seemed to be getting her pretty worked up, I couldn’t take much of this before she’d made me cum. I took a half step back, popping my fingers out of Gemma; she kept working my cock as I braced my left hand on her shoulders, looking up just in time to see my right fist flying at her face. My knuckles smashed into her mouth, and I scored my first knockdown as Gemma collapsed in a heap, sitting against the wall for a second before flopping forward awkwardly. I grabbed her ankles, pulling her towards the center of the room a little bit, which laid her out flat on her back. I squatted between her legs, going back to fingering her as she looked up at me dreamily.
“Hey, Gemma. Do you want to take the corset back off?”
“You pick,” she gasped.
“Keep it on. If you can get up.” I started counting as I pumped her; she laid there until four, then started getting up as I backed off. She was up by eight, looking a bit woozy. She was only about a foot and a half away from the wall, and I thought I could press her back up against it and finish her, either by making her cum or knocking her silly, and I came in on her aggressively, headhunting with big hooks and powerful straights.
Gemma took my first hook on her hands, blocked the following straight with her forearm, then closed up a half step, intercepting the next hook far away from her body. I saw her counterpunch coming, but couldn’t move quite fast enough and missed blocking it by a hair; her fist slammed into my stomach, and although I’d tried to brace, the hit was powerful enough that I stumbled backwards away form her. She came after me, rocking me with a left hook to the jaw; I tried to clinch her to preclude another hit, but she pushed me back and bent me over with a straight to my tummy. I knew she was lining up for a knockout punch, and I had to get away; backing up hadn’t worked and clinching hadn’t worked, so instead I shot forward, unleashing a blind, frantic uppercut. Gemma weaved around it - it was so wild that she must’ve seen it coming a mile away, giving her plenty of time to dodge even with her reduced range of movement. She came in with her own uppercut, a much shorter, more controlled blow that exploded up into my stomach, knocking every last bit of breath out of me. I dropped to my knees, then flopped forward on my chest with a gasp. Gemma got on her knees next to me, rolling me over onto my back; then she stood, going between my legs and reapplying her footjob.
“What do you think, Kyle? You want to give up? Just lay there and I’ll count you out.”
"I want to register a complaint."
"I'm listening."
"I’ve been thinking it over, and I don't think you're old enough to really be called a MILF."
"Oh, thank you. What's the cutoff?"
"Forty?"
"Well, then you got me there. I’ll give you a card for ten percent off on your next visit, how’s that? Are you going to get up?"
"Just a minute," I gasped.
"If you think you have a minute..." she started counting, slowly; despite the beating she’d just given me I was still pretty hard, and I knew I’d go off before she got close to ten. I waited as long as I dared, sucking down as many big breaths as I could, before getting up at five, my stomach feeling like I’d been run over by a bus and my cock twitching. I was a stiff breeze away from cumming, but Gemma, it seemed, didn’t want to finish me just yet - I assume because I’d summoned the willpower to get up; I had the distinct sense I was being toyed with. As she came in, I was on the lookout to see if she’d come after my crotch, but instead she aimed to work my body, targeting my stomach and ribs.
“You know, Kyle,” she observed as I barely managed to intercept a hard left straight on my own fists, “I can tell when a guy’s done, and you’re just about done.” I opened my mouth to reply, but had to cut that short to duck the right hook she threw at my face. Instead of responding verbally I faked a left uppercut at her chest; her hands came down and I tagged her with a quick right hook to the jaw, then stepped in with a slower, heavier left straight. Gemma slapped it away and blasted me in the stomach with her right hand; I gagged, trying to back her away with a wild swing. This didn’t work any better than my earlier frantic uppercut, and she just pulled her head back, then slammed a left overhand punch into my face. I went down to one knee, seeing stars; Gemma reached down and cupped my face in her hands, tilting them up so I was staring into her big, dark eyes. “I think I’m going to finish you off now.” She kept her left hand under my chin, lifting her right hand to her mouth where she gave her knuckles a quick kiss, then pulled her arm back, aiming her fist square at my face. I yanked my head backward at the last second and she whiffed so hard she almost fell over. This gave me enough time to get up. Gemma still seemed to think it was time to finish me off as she came at me very aggressively, targeting my head with hooks and straights. We were both tired and slowed, but she had excellent footwork and mine was pretty basic; she surprised me by swinging around to my right, and the next thing I knew her fist slammed into my mouth. Her followup into my stomach left me hanging off her shoulders, and a final uppercut into my breadbasket dropped me to my knees in front of her. She put her index finger on my forehead and pushed, and I went over on my back. Gemma got on her knees between my legs, slowly lowering herself, fitting my cock between her huge, soft, sweaty boobs.
"No one survives this, Kyle," she told me. "Just lay back; you're finished." She started titfucking me, using her arms to keep her breasts pressed together. I moaned softly as she varied her techniques, starting with simple up and down, then moving one breast up while the other went down, then stopping after every half dozen strokes to flick her tongue over my tip. She didn’t bother counting; it was clear this was her finishing move, and I could see why no guy could endure it. For a moment I lay there with the match teetering on the edge; if I didn’t stop her right away she was going to make me cum, and that would be it for me. I took a deep breath, sat up a bit, and pushed her away; at first she tried to stay in position, but a strong shove was enough to send her rolling backwards, and I got up to my feet, still groggy with pleasure.
“All right,” Gemma admitted as she stood, “I’m impressed. Not many men can resist these," she bounced them up and down with her hands. "Come and get them, if you can." Despite how tempting that sounded, I guessed she’d be waiting for me to do exactly that and tried to trick her, coming on feinting a left hook at her chest; Gemma saw what she wanted to see and went for an easy block, keeping her other hand back to counterpunch. Before my blow landed I shot forward, popping my hips and getting all my bodyweight into the real blow, a straight right. My fist slammed into her face and she grunted, bringing her hands up too late, leaving her tits uncovered. I worked them like speedbags until she dropped her fists to cover them, and that left her open above the neck; I turned her head with a left hook, then finished with a right uppercut, starting low, my fist soaring up to explode under her chin. Gemma went flying backwards, landing on her back with a loud, deep grunt. I pushed her legs apart, getting on my knees and diving in, pressing my tongue into her crotch, hearing a throaty moan of pleasure. I was as eager as I was inexperienced, attacking her pussy with my tongue, fumbling for her clit with my right hand, finding it and teasing it with my fingertips. Once again the match hung in the balance, but this time I was in control, my opponent flat on her back getting eaten out. She found the strength to fight back, managing to lean up and push me away, and I backed off, my mouth covered with her thick juices. She was slow to get up, taking a few long, shuddering breaths before getting her hands set back into her guard.
"Okay," she waved me on. "You're tougher than you look, and you're not bad with that tongue either. I see I'm going to have to go all out with you." I nodded and we closed for what felt like the last time; I knew I was running out of gas and incredibly turned on, my mind swirling with a mixture of fatigue and arousal. I could guess Gemma was feeling the same way, panting as she came at me, her nipples rock hard, the thick smell of her sweat and musk filling my nose. I ducked her opening left hook and went after her tits, trying to surprise her with a quick uppercut, but she caught my wrist, and I stared at her dumbly; by the time I realized her other hand was flying at my face it was too late, and she floored me with an overhand punch, stars exploding in front of my eyes as her fist slammed into me with all of her body weight behind it. I ended up on my back, dazed, slowly rolling over on pure instinct, then rising up on all fours; this was as far as I got as Gemma got behind me, pressing her tongue against my ass as she wrapped both hands around my cock and started milking me. The obliterating knockdown she’d just scored had softened me up a little bit (not literally; my dick was rock hard) and for a minute I just stayed there, my head buzzing with pain and pleasure, as her warm tongue circled my asshole and her soft hands worked my shaft. As I returned to my senses slightly I tried to crawl away from her; she reared up a little, wrapping her arms around my hips. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re finished.” She flipped me over and pressed me down to the floor, laying on top of me. “Do you hear me, Kyle? You’re done.” She slid down my body, pressing my legs apart. “Don’t move.” I looked down at her just in time to see my cock disappear into her mouth. I reached down to push her head away, but she was ready for this and stopped me cold as I felt one of her long, elegant fingers pressing into my asshole. For a second I was frozen, my back off the floor as I leaned forward, my hands resting on my opponent’s head, my fingers curled in her thick hair. Then I leaned back, staring at the ceiling for one long second before Gemma pushed me over the edge; between her soft, warm, sucking mouth and finger stroking my prostate, it was a more powerful climax than I could have imagined; it felt like my body was melting with pleasure as she finished me, numbing, irresistible warmth flowing through me as she took me past my limit. I began cumming into her mouth, my now victorious opponent sucking it all down as she kept stimulating my prostate, working me through an orgasm that shattered my mind; by the time I finished shooting rope after rope of cum down her throat, she left me completely powerless, happily drifting off to sleep.
She got to her feet, wiping her mouth with a kind smile as she looked down at me, resting her chin in one hand. “One,” she started. “Two. Three…” I lay there half away until she got to ten, then she trilled “That’s it, you’re out!” Gemma leaned down and planted a kiss on me, then gently dragged me over to the darkest corner of the room, propping me up against the walls. She squatted in front of me, cupping her breasts. “Here, you wanted more of these, right?” I managed a nod and she scooched forward, rubbing her big, sweaty tits over my face, caressing my lips with her hard nipples as I slowly recovered. After a little bit of this I managed to get my mouth open and she pressed her nipples inside, one after the other; I swirled my tongue around them as she murmured with pleasure. Both of us were really getting into this and I started to slowly get hard again when she stood, looking down at me for a moment before stepping forward, rubbing her crotch against my face, pressing the back of my head into the wall. I kissed her pussy and then started eating her out. She braced her hands on my shoulders, moaning as I gave her long licks. I’d read to not neglect the clit and started circling it with my thumb for good measure, getting even harder as I took Gemma over the edge, her strong hands squeezing my shoulders as she came, moaning a slow-building, guttering cry of pleasure; I didn’t know when to stop, and she gently pushed me back against the wall when she was finished.
“Was that okay?” I looked up at her. She smiled.
“Yes, that was okay. Now I want you to just sit back, all right?” I nodded and she slowly lowered herself; I was trembling with anticipation as I saw her reach between her legs and spread her lower lips. She slid down my shaft, and I almost came right there - even though I’d already gone once, this was my very first time with vaginal sex, and I leaned back against the wall, shuddering. Gemma had done a bunch of sex stuff to me during the match, but it was always mixed in with her hard punches, which had counteracted the effect; with her just fucking me, her tits rubbing against my face, her hips sliding up and down my cock, it was completely different. I don’t know how long it lasted, but I’d be surprised if it was more than a minute or two of heaven; before I knew it I could feel myself getting ready to go again. Gemma must have sensed it as well as she pulled me close, gently pressing my face between her breasts, her chin resting on to top of my head, telling me to cum. A few more strokes sealed my fate as I began unleashing spurt after spurt into her pussy. My previous climax had been the most powerful I could remember, but this one seemed fit to top it; whereas her blowjob and prostate stroking had felt like an explosion of overwhelming pleasure, her riding was much more drawn out, building and building into a wave of ecstasy that washed everything else away until there was nothing else; I vaguely felt myself moaning and drooling against Gemma's tits, my cock feeling like it might melt in pure pleasure; I came and came until there was nothing left, shooting spurt after spurt into Gemma's pussy, my victorious opponent milking me with her muscles in addition to moving her hips up and down, working me through a mind-shattering climax.
It felt like she was sucking my soul out through my cock; by the time I was finished I found myself laying on the floor in a daze; Gemma was straddling me, looking down at me with a smile.
"Did you like that?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out; she'd fucked me silly.
"I think that's a yes. I take it you can't stand up?" I couldn't even shake my head no; she picked me up like a baby and carried me into the large bathroom in the back, laying me in the tub, then getting in with me and filling it with warm water. By the time she'd washed us both and gotten me dressed, I could just about move and talk. Sure enough she gave me a ten percent off card, then a long hug before we said our goodbyes and I went downstairs to meet up with my buddies.
