Striker vs. Touchstone

Your eyes glue themselves to the ring as the two fighters start to circle one another around the edges of the ring. Striker has his hands up in a fighter's pose, while Touchstone keeps hers spread wide, stepping around lightly on her tippy-toes.

"Ready to make it 10-0, darling?"

Touchstone grits her teeth in a way that's supposed to look menacing but just looks a little bit insecure. "I'll wipe that grin off of your face.... I've been training, you know!" Her voice squeaks a little bit as she yells that last part.

Striker grins.

"I did know that, actually."

"E-enough! Quiet!! Let's just fight!" Touchstone's face is turning pretty red. Striker shrugs, before moving in and beginning the fight in earnest.

After the first thirty seconds or so, Striker's landed a couple of good shots already and Touchstone's dodging pretty poorly. He backs up, then leaps forward and delivers a kick to her side that takes her by surprise. Realising that her evasion techniques can barely be called that, Touchstone rushes forwards in an attempt to take Striker into a grapplehold, to minimise the fighting he can do, but he quickly sidesteps the charge. As she rushes just past him, he turns it around on her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist (pinning her arms to her sides in the process) and pulling her into a close, tight hold.

The crowd cheers at the display of superiority. Striker leans in close as Touchstone struggles around in his grip, putting his mouth up to her ear to softly whisper teasing taunts and degradation.

"Looks like I'm kicking your ass again, Tiff. You should really just find another opponent. One that's more your speed."

"I-it's Touchstone when we're fighting, Jacob! We- we talked about this before!"

Touchstone shakes and wiggles around in his grip, **** to break free. She moans and grunts, leaning forward with all of her weight, trying to get out of the hold and back into the fight. In the process, she slides her ass all over Striker's crotch, sending a growing warmth throughout his body as he starts to stiffen up. His eyes shut and his lips tighten.

Touchstone's eyes bug out as she feels something poking her between her cheeks, and her movements stop. To confirm what she already knows, she moves more slowly and carefully now, intentionally sliding and circling her behind over his stiff member. As she does so, she can hear Striker barely holding his moan down in his throat, and she can feel his grip around her weaken.....

Using his faltering strength to her advantage, Touchstone suddenly stops her loving backwards caress and breaks free of his grip, stepping forward and out from his weakened arms. The cheering and chanting crowd goes silent as she staggers several steps forward and away from him, clearly revealing the full-masted tent he's pitching in his pants. His arms dangle by his side as he tries to gather himself, Touchstone's eyes locked on the front of his pants in awe.

"............"

He struggles to regain his strength, to will his pole back down, but he can't do it fast enough. As he shakes his clouded head and gets himself back into a somewhat sloppy fighting pose, Touchstone's been filled back up with confidence and mocking pride, swaying her hips as she struts towards him.

"Wow, what do we have here, huh?"

She easily ducks his almost slow-motion punch, getting in close to his front and bending over at the hips. Head level with the tip of his tent, she taps her finger against it as she stares so deeply at it.

"What's that, huh?" She repeats, using her finger to bob the tent up and down.

"S-stop that." He responds through gritted teeth, suddenly realising that he can step backwards to get away from her prying fingertips.

As he backs away, Touchstone straightens back up with a sigh. Without warning, she suddenly leaps forwards and goes low, slipping his meagre guard easily and wrapping a full hand around his mast. After a few short, quick pumps, she gives two gentle slaps that send it bopping side-to-side and then leaps back and away again.

Touchstone had backed up assuming that she'd be evading a counterattack, but he hadn't attempted one. Still, the sight she got instead was well worth leaving her prey -- the entire crowd gasps and giggles as Striker, no hands on his length, thrusts several times into the open, empty air where Touchstone's grip had once been. He quickly manages to stop, looking around nervously, but it's too late -- everybody already saw.

"Ha!"

"T-Tiff, seriously, don't....."

Striker sees something in Touchstone's glee-filled face that tells him she won't be stopping any time soon. At least, not on her own. He has to make her!

Going fully red in the face at the embarrassment, Striker roars out in anger and rushes forwards in an attack, fist cocked back and ready to detonate. Embarrassingly easily, Touchstone dodges to the side, and the **** of his attempted strike is enough to send him falling over to land sprawled face-down on the mat. Touchstone brings a hand to her mouth to laugh cruelly at the display of just how pitiful he'd suddenly become -- and at how the impact must've felt on his tent.

Walking cockily over to him, Touchstone uses her foot to flip him over onto his back. He groans, but it looks like the past stimulation as well as the impact of falling over facefirst has drained him too much to get up at the moment. All the better, Touchstone thinks, licking her lips.

Lying down next to him in a beach pose, head resting on one hand as her legs kicked slowly in the air behind her, Touchstone reaches forward to once again grab his dick. She wraps her hand confidently around the fabric-covered shaft, one finger at a time, as he slowly recovers on his back with the tent pointed straight up into the air.

"Never knew I'd be winning this much...." She muses to herself.

"B-bitch...."

"Ooh, it's so hard~!"

Touchstone looks away from the shaft she's pumping at increasing speeds now, to make eye contact with Striker. He raises his head weakly to look back at her, then over to her hand stroking up and down his pants-covered length, and then drops his head back to the mat weakly.

An excited grin takes over Touchstone's face, and the hand beating him off speeds up as she shifts position to sit up on her haunches.

"Wait, are you gonna cum?" Her eyes take on a crazed, maniacal look. "Are you gonna cum in your pants right now??"

He weakly lifts one arm up, barely able to muster the strength, and lets it fall back against the mat twice -- tapping out, and officially declaring Touchstone the winner. Instead of stopping, though, her awestruck face's eyes only widen as her hand speeds up to a blur, leaning ever closer over his face and watching his every weakened twitch under her firm hold on his cock's shaft.

"P-please, you've already beaten me, I lost, just let me-"

In an instant, she lifts her other hand up from the mat where she'd been leaning on it and claps it over his mouth -- you barely even see it move as it absolutely flies at top speed, silencing him on the spot.

"Don't ruin this Jacob -- oh my god, you're actually gonna cum......"

And he did. Reaching up with both hands to grab at the wrist of the hand covering his mouth, Striker's eyes went wide and he weakly struggled beneath his stronger opponent as her hands **** him to unload into his pants, the sliding fingers outside the fabric working him all the way through the ejaculation as he tried pointlessly to break free. When at last it was over, Touchstone removed both of her hands from his body and rose back up to a standing position over his gasping, broken body. Planting a foot on his chest and striking a pose of absolute victory, the crowd cheered loudly for her as Striker took some much-needed time to compose himself.