“Go’n, hit me. As hard as you can, go fer it, Simon, wit’ all ya might,” Buck said. His voice stayed jagged cuzza Simon jostling him up and down, back and forth. He bobbed and weaved with his body like he was boxing — Buck usedta be a amateur boxer — and pretended liketa dodge Simon’s strikes. He ain’t move away though, just kept letting Simon bag on him. “You gotsta put ya thumb on the outsidea ya fist,” Buck said, “Or you gonna break ya thumb.”
Readjusting his fist, Simon punched harder and harder. His shoulders ached, but he didn’t stop. His punches did slow down and get weaker though. Finally he got Buck right above the navel, which was nuff to make Buck grunt. His belly and pecs rippled. The punch ain’t hurt, it just hit right ‘tween breaths, and Buck threw his eyebrows way back. But he played it up to encourage Simon.
“Damn, Simon, you throw a firm fist fer a li’l feller!” Buck said with a whistle.
“I’m tired, Buck,” Simon said. He blushed. He didn’t move away though, he just stopped punching Buck’s chest and started groping it. Buck’s pecs rippled when Simon’s fingers gripped it tight like he wanna see how firm it was under the layer of padding Buck had. He was so tall Simon couldn’t reach past his shoulders. Simon’s hands crept into the hefty under-pec area, the sweaty crevice ‘neath his pectoral muscles, and Simon even stuck his nose under there and took a long deep sniff.
“A’ight, buddy,” Buck said with a shrug. He gently pushed Simon off his pecs, then sat down upon the edge of the bed. “Relax, relax, you don’t gotta…”
Simon nodded. Though Buck done move, Simon moved with him, and he was again caressing the curves of Buck’s powerful chest. “How’d you get so strong, Buck?”
Category: Gutpunching
Arthur takes a hit
Arthur sighed and nodded. He put down the weights and stood up, then took off his sweatshirt, even though the gym was cold now that it was empty. His chowder white chest was pale, and goosebumps dappled his arms. He flexed his pecs and abs.
Buck punched Arthur in the gut. Not that hard the first time, but hard nuff to make Arthur’s chest ripple.
“You okay?”
Arthur nodded. “I’m fine — I can fight, Buck. I can. Them glasses woulda-” He oomphed as Buck’s fist collided with his belly once more. “They woulda got broke if I fought that man too.”
“Uh-huh,” Buck said. Again, again and again, Buck punched him in the stomach. Then Buck paused to make sh’ore Arthur weren’t plussing. Arthur stayed still with his arms flexed, hands gripping each other behind his back. Arthur’s face was tense, his perfect six-pack ruddying up with each smack.
Arthur bit back a grunt. He stonefaced, as punch after punch landed upon his gut. Ruddy skin and blooming bruises spread o’er his midsection.
“A’ight, you done good,” Buck said when his shoulders begun to weary.
Then when Arthur took a breath and relaxed, Buck let loose as hard as he could, driving a fat fist into Arthur’s flat belly. Arthur oomphed that one down and doubled o’er, but he took it okay. Buck laughed, patted him on the back with one hand and twisted his nipple with t’other.