Carly ignores Matt

Matt had an expression of pure concern as he approached where Carly sat, sweaty and flushed and glaring over at Billy in her corner stool. Those thick thighs were spread wide and glistening, her white gloves resting atop the powerful bare muscles as she scowled in bitter silence towards her slumped, dazed opponent. The opponent who was staring right at her spread legs. The opponent who was recovering more every moment, while Carly just had to wait and let him.

“Car- what the hell was that?” Matt asked quietly, with genuine confusion. “You were winning- you were DESTROYING him, and then- I mean, it didn’t look like he hit you that hard, why did…”

“Shut up,” Carly growled, frustration boiling over inside her. Billy might not have hit her hard, but he did hit her in the right spot. Her pussy was STILL shivering from what that devastating lower-tummy pressure had done to her.

She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it had happened. Her mighty, triumphant orgasm, torn from her body too soon. Cumming and screaming in front of a confused crowd that thought it was a regular knockdown. A crowd that hadn’t felt that press. Oh god, that press…

“Let’s just stick to the plan,” Matt said, supportively. “We know it works now. Look at him. Just fucking LOOK at him. He’s slumped, he’s gasping… He’s cooked. You already knocked him out once. We all saw it. Total knockout.”

Carly pursed her lips, and her frown deepened. In common language, yes, she had knocked him out. But Billy had beaten the ten count. He might have gone to sleep for a little while, but as far as the sport of boxing was concerned, that wasn’t a knockout. Carly knew it, Matt knew it, and Carly knew that Matt knew it. He was trying to be supportive, but all Carly heard was condescension.

Matt continued. “You were fucking owning him, babe. You put big, strong Billy to sleep. And now you’re gonna do it again,” he said. Carly’s eyes had not shifted away from Billy, sitting against the opposite ringpost. “Just keep on peppering him from the outside, and when he goes for a clinch, that sweet spot is yours for the taking. Take your time, don’t take any unnecessary risks. He’s already tired. He’s recovering, but he’s-“

“I said shut up,” Carly snapped, in a foul mood. Matt was taken aback.

Was this… Was she really… That wasn’t enough for her? She had knocked Billy down with her very first punch. BILLY. “Iron Chin” Billy. More than that, she had fucking SLEPT him. He got one measly little bodyshot knockdown at the end of the round, and Carly was unhappy? She should have been fucking THRILLED. This was Billy. BILLY. Matt’s rival. Matt’s… Matt’s oldest friend. And after everything Matt had done to make this happen, she was unhappy with a near-flawless performance?

Matt shook his head, pushing his thoughts away. This wasn’t the time or the place. He couldn’t let her lose sight of the goal here, and so he pushed on, even when he could tell Carly was in a mood that wouldn’t be receptive to deeper prompting. She always got like this about Billy, but Matt wasn’t going to let her throw the fight over it.

“Stick to the outside. Wear him out. It probably won’t take as long this time. Then go in for the kill,” Matt said. Carly still hadn’t moved her eyes from Billy. “Come on, what are you looking at? He’s a mess. He’s RUINED. You’re going to clean him up, you know that? Everyone’s going to see you-“

At last, Carly looked up at Matthew with an unreadable expression in her eyes, and Matt stopped. She held the firm eye contact for a long time. Then, she spoke.

“You were right, Matt,” she said, her tone cold. “Billy’s cock is WAY bigger than yours.”

Matt’s jaw dropped, and his heart sank.

It wasn’t the first time Carly had snapped and used that particular tidbit against him. It had been a long time, though. Years.

Matt’s dick wasn’t small, in fact it was a little bigger than average, but Carly knew how it made him feel whenever she brought up the size difference between him and Billy. She knew how it made him feel. Once, several years ago, she had been upset at Matt for losing to Billy again, and she had used it against him. Used the information that Matt had told her a few months before, the information she had pestered him about until he answered, against him for the express purpose of hurting him. Of making him feel weak and small and bad about not beating Billy yet again. When Matt had never done anything but support her, even when she was so clearly in the wrong.

It had led to a massive argument and brief falling out at the time. The two of them had a lot of those, over the years. Splitting apart, and coming back together. Again and again.

For a moment, it was like Matt was watching his own life from an outside perspective. It was as if his eyes had zoomed out, his perspective floating high above the boxing ring, and he was suddenly perceiving everything differently - a wash of realization passed over him. A moment of sudden clarity.

He had problems with Billy. He’d never talked to him about them, but they had been there. Growing. Growing big. Billy had only found out about them today, and what had he done right before this match? The match Matt had set up specifically to embarrass him in public, that Billy knew Matt had put together so specifically his friend could lose everything?

He had apologized. Billy had said “I’m sorry, about all of it”. And he had meant it.

Even though Matt wanted him down. Even though Matt wanted Billy’s legend destroyed. Even though Matt hadn’t cared that it might end Billy’s career for good. Billy had realized he was hurting Matt, and despite his friend’s sudden, public retaliation, he had still apologized for what he’d done.

Carly never apologized. Not in all these years. Not for going 100% power against all the guys she sparred with. Not for getting Billy to fight her when he had barely started boxing. Not for forcing Matt into a fight he didn’t want to have, and not for belittling him after he had lost it either. Their whole relationship had been a cycle of Carly reacting poorly to something, making some hurtful comment or flipping out, the two of them splitting apart and not talking for a week or a month or a year, and then Carly sheepishly approaching him again - no apology, just an awkward “hi” - and Matt welcoming her back. Only to repeat the cycle all over again.

She snapped at him all the time, and he dismissed it, because he knew there was turmoil inside her. Her moods just got so bad whenever Billy came up. Matt knew it wasn’t really her fault. And besides, she was fun. The sex was great. The “wrestling” was something he wouldn’t have had the courage to ask for from anyone else, and he needed more of that feeling. He kept on coming back to her, as a friend or a fuckbuddy or now as a boyfriend again, because he knew her worst moments were just outbursts. That “wasn’t her”. She could be fixed. She was a project, a FUN project, and today was supposed to be the day Carly got to work out all those hard feelings once and for all. And to make it happen, Matt had sold his best friend out. Because it would be hot. Because it would be fun. Because Carly needed it.

Matt was mostly used to the fact that Carly could be cruel sometimes, when she was in a bad mood. But… This was supposed to be a team victory. A monumental moment for all of them. The start of their renewed, now three-way relationship, marked with a collaborative defeat of the undefeatable champion who had caused them all so much strain. Everyone was supposed to win.

Matt would see his rival fall, in front of all his believers, and nobody would talk shit to him anymore. Anna would see her big brother crushed by a girl. And Carly would finally get over that day that had haunted her for so long. The day that had seemed to cause so much tension between her and Matt. The day that she had been obsessed over for so long. It would finally be forgotten as Billy dropped to her feet, sound asleep. It was supposed to be perfect.

Matt had given her the strategy, had brought her prey right to her, and Carly had hunted him down flawlessly - whipping that Achilles chin that Anna had uncovered for them left and right. Carly had only gotten knocked down ONCE. How could she be taking this so badly? “Near perfect” wasn’t good enough for her? She had to take it out on Matt, even NOW, when everything had been going so well? For fuck’s sake, she just put the “Iron Chin” to SLEEP for a dirty nine-count, and she STILL wasn’t happy?

And if beating Billy that badly wasn’t enough to stop Carly from being taking out her bad moods on Matt… What was the point of this whole thing? Would she always find a way to lash out at him, some reason he wasn’t good enough, even after this had been “solved”? Even AFTER Matt had sacrificed his best bud, and served him up to Carly on a plate, would she STILL be taking shots at him and saying it wasn’t enough?

Was this just who she was?

Matt’s perspective came back down into his own head, from where it had been floating high above the ring. No, that couldn’t- if that was true, then that would mean he had- he glanced over at Billy, strong chest heaving, sitting slumped against the ring post. His best friend, glassy eyed and destroyed with the tactics Matt had given to Carly. A bit of drool still shining on his chin, from that slumber Carly had pulled him into in front of everyone.

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Carly was just… Having a moment. It would be better when the fight was over. She would be better when the fight was over. Matt just had to wait until the fight was over.

Before Matt could think of a reply to Carly’s comment, maybe something to try and get her back on track, the bell rang. The second round had begun.

Without another word, Carly stood up from her stool, looking grimly focused. That thick dumptruck was stretching her tight orange shorts into two round orbs, standing proud and determined.

Matthew retreated to the center, shoulders slouched and a contemplative frown on his face. He was only half present in the moment, thinking of many other things now.

Carly hopped from foot to foot, calves pulsing, loosening up in her corner. With a staggering lack of grace, Billy grunted and lifted his arms to roughly pull himself up out of his slump by the ring ropes. At last, he dragged his eyes away from Carly’s legs, and lifted his gloves into a fighting position.

Matt looked between them. Carly looked furious, hopping from foot to foot, and Billy looked heavy. Worn out. Lost. Getting knocked out will do that to you, prodigy or not.

With a tight mouth, Matt lifted his hand and then brought it down. “Fight,” he said, not shouted.

Carly and Billy both marched forward, gloves up, to meet in the middle. Carly was tight and fierce, her bare thighs shifting like mighty pistons, and Billy was plodding. His strong, incredible body looked slow and feeble as he moved towards the taunting, outspoken feminist who had just beaten him down and dropped him into a haze. The girl he had beaten so easily as a rookie. The girl whose bottom half was built like a brick monument to the power of squats.

She had tucked him in for a nice little nap, and now she was coming forward for more. He could see it in her eyes. She was trying to make him sleep DEEP.

Despite the mental haze, Billy was much more focused than he had been before - because now he wasn’t conflicted anymore. That little taste of defeat reminded him of just how much he couldn’t let it happen. Not in front of this crowd. Not to HER.

His brain was woozy, his body was battered and weak, but his mind was made up. The burning hot concept of losing to Carly in public like this had been somewhat satisfied by the sleepy nine-count knockout. He could focus on actually trying to win. He wasn’t as distracted by the allure of the defeat, or the allure of Carly’s thick fucking ass and delicious taunts.

Carly, on the other hand, was very distracted. Her mind raced with insults, moves, anything she could try to make this defeat MORE than a defeat. Some way to make it a performance, to not just win, but to show that Billy wasn’t on her level. But that wasn’t the only reason she was distracted.

As Billy cautiously marched forward, his gloves raised in a respectful defensive posture, his thick bulge was bobbing around obscenely in the front of his boxing shorts. Despite herself, Carly’s eyes kept flicking down towards it.

She convinced herself she was angry, enraged by the obscenity of it. Of a man swinging around his big dick, with no shame at all. How dare he. But the fire in her guts said that maybe she was feeling something else…

Her face had been so close to it, that she had felt the heat. She could still feel that invasive, tingling heat on her cheek. She had seen all that meat twitching behind the fabric of his shorts. The thick cock she had been so angry about for so many years, shoved in her face and taunting her. And shamefully, another orgasm was already brewing in her guts at the thought of that…

But this one felt different to the one that had just burst out of her. This one wasn’t a triumphant orgasm. Wasn’t a proud explosion of victory at last. It was a dark, dirty secret that Carly tried to deny. She shook her head, convincing herself it was nothing, and glared at Billy with mostly-convincing hate.

“Ready to get dropped in one punch again?” she asked, forcing a smirk.

“Are you?” Billy replied, looking cautious, but present. Carly’s eyes widened. Outrage. Her thighs trembled.

Did he really just say that to her? After the beating she had given him in round one? Just because he got a lucky shot at the very end? Just because her womb had…

Carly growled. This cocky prick. He wasn’t going to spoil this for her. He wasn’t going to take her win away. The big-bootied feminist roared like a lioness, charging forward and throwing Matt’s strategy out the window.

She wanted him SLEEPING. She wouldn’t be satisfied until this thick-cocked fucker was snoozing, and she had given him his ten count with ten additional heavy punches to his sensitive chin. She wanted to snatch up his SOUL.

Fuck everything else. All the noise. Carly knew could win on her own. She had been HAMMERING him. DESTROYING him. She didn’t need all the bells and whistles. She didn’t need Anna or Matt telling her what to do. She just wanted them to watch her. To witness her big moment. HER moment. This fight wasn’t about finding a way to beat Billy. This fight was about proving she could beat him any way she liked.

The thoughts mirrored her old attitude when she had originally joined the boxing club, a notion that Carly did not notice the danger of. Not that it seemed to matter. After all, the hard work had already been done. Billy’s eyes widened as she charged at him, a white glove sailing directly for his famous chin, and all the color drained from his face. Billy managed to move out of the way, but only by essentially running away - he didn’t lean, or duck, he LEFT, retreating backwards several hasty steps so Carly’s first punch would hit air.

It was a no-skill way to dodge, and looked extremely cowardly - retreating from the range where you can fight back, instead of taking the block or the slip and staying close enough to hit your opponent. It looked like he had given up on his ability to hit Carly entirely. That soothed her bruised ego somewhat - of course, after how slippery she had been in the first round, it seemed Billy had no faith in himself to even TRY punching back. He couldn’t fucking touch her.

Even better, it was the kind of dodge you couldn’t do very often - as suddenly, the free space behind Billy ran out, and his back touched the ropes.

Carly grinned, pulling her glove back into her stance. She had him RUNNING. And now he had nowhere to go.

She knew it. She knew she could win this any way she wanted. Billy was fucking AFRAID of her. And that handsome chin of his was soooo ready to get taken, one final time…