08-04-2008, 02:47 PM
One More Time Written by bill69
I was standing outside of my front door cussing and fuming over the fact that the damned dead bolt had a mind of its own and worked about as well I did with a hangover.
I heard someone come up the steps and stop across from me putting a key into the lock. Knowing that the occupant of the condo across from mine was living with her new hubby, I turned to see who it was.
"Hi, my name is Bill, I guess you must be the new owner?"
An attractive brunette turned to face me and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Debbi. No, this is not my new digs, I'm just staying here while I look for a job, the owner is an old friend."
Without thinking I asked, "You're not from around here, are you?"
She gave me a polite smile and answered, "No, how can you tell?"
I smiled, "The only people who wear sun glasses around here are eternal optimists and rock stars."
She thought for a minute, then felt around her head and found the sunglasses practically lost in a dark mass of wind blown auburn hair. "Oh," she laughed, "that's right, this is Seattle, hun?"
Turning her key in the lock, she opened the door and said, "It's been nice meeting you." Then she stepped inside and closed her door, leaving me to curse mine.
It had been a couple of days since I had met my new neighbor and I had just finished making dinner, a large pot of spaghetti, when I heard a very unfamiliar sound, someone knocking on my door. Turning the stove down low, I went to answer it. There she was, looking somewhat upset.
"Hi, neighbor, can I do something for you?"
She looked at me with a forced smile, "Can I use your phone, I don't know when the phone company is going to get around to installing mine."
"Sure, come on it."
"Man, it smells good in here."
"Spaghetti and French bread," I said, pointing to the cordless on a table by the television. "Help yourself."
She crossed the small room, picked up the phone, pushed back a shock of her unruly dark hair, punched in a number and spoke into the mouthpiece.
"Hello, my name is Debbi and I brought in a gray Honda Accord to have you look at." She let out an audible sigh and shrank at the shoulders. "That bad, hun? No, I can't afford that, I'll come over tomorrow and pick it up."
"Bad news?"
It was easy to see she was upset. "It needs a clutch and throw something or other, and brakes. Minimum, five-hundred dollars." She was on the verge of tears.
"Well, you can't worry about it on an empty stomach, sit down and have some dinner with me."
"I can't, I have to go job hunting and figure out a way to get my car home."
I went to the table, poured a glass of wine for her and said, "Here." I took the phone from her hand and offered her the wine. "Don't worry, I have a dishwasher, you won't have to wash dishes for your supper."
She took the glass of wine and relinquished the phone, a weak smile slid across her pretty face. "Thanks."
Two weeks passed. She had been busing it into town and walking to and from the bus stop a few blocks away. A few times, when the weather was bad, I took her to the store and the bank and asked her over for dinner on a regular basis. She appreciated it and I enjoyed the companionship of a younger woman. I felt really fortunate, Debbi was not only an attractive brunette with a fine figure. She was vivacious, had a great sense of humor and laughed easily. Finally, on one our trips to the store, she told me that she was going through some very rough financial problems and that she really appreciated my help. She had been out of a job for some weeks already and working part time at anything she could find.
Three nights later she asked me if I had ever been to the Topless Plus Bar a mile or so from our condominiums. "Topless plus" meant the gals stripped completely. I smiled and said I visited often on Fridays. She asked me what kind of place it was and what I thought of the girls working there. It was obvious where all this was going, and after a few minutes of questioning she said that she was thinking about working there until she could get back on her feet financially or some better paying jobs came along. I told her that the place was like any other of that nature and that it was clean. From what I had seen as a visitor, the girls did okay and were not hassled by the men. When I asked her if she had ever danced nude before, she blushed and said, no, and she was going to work as a bartender not a dancer. Just my luck, I teased. She laughed at my mock disappointment and asked if I would take her there and buy her a few beers so she could look over the place and meet the bartender and manager.
The following night I took Debbi to Al's Topless Plus and had a beer while she talked to the bartender. I was on my second beer, watching an attractive blond doing her thing when Debbi asked me to join her at the rack. The rack is the small bar that runs around the dance floor where the girls stripped and accepted tips. If you put a dollar on the edge of the rack, the girl would come over and dance in front of you bending this way and that, displaying all that there is to display. Sitting there I often felt like I was part of a gynecological examination. But to be honest, there were one or two girls whom I did tip and enjoyed talking to at the bar when their performance was done. Each girl did two dances, during the first one they stripped to a g-string, during the second, they danced nude. Generally on Friday and Saturday nights business was best. That day was Wednesday so business was a little slow. I sat by Debbi who sat next to the entrance to the dance floor. That way, I supposed, she could talk to the dancers as they entered and exited the floor. Besides Debbi and myself there were two other guys at the rack; both looked at me with envy written all over their faces.
A short well-proportioned girl with short black hair, bright blue eyes, nice tits and a soft rounded belly came up next. I had seen the girl dancing in the bar before on Friday nights. She was good at what she did and had a couple of male admirers who were always there when she was dancing, at least according to Maggie, the bartender. Maggie and I both were students and I was then an aspiring writer who probably asked too many questions. According to Maggie, one of the men now seated at the rack was married and wanted to leave his wife if Sandy, the dancer accepted to move in with him. Apparently never said yes, but never said no, either. The guy tipped her well and bought at least one or two table dances a night. If memory served me correctly, that was twenty dollars a dance. A table dance consisted of the same performance at a table off to the side where it was more personal or private.
I thought she had a nice figure and a lovely tummy with a deep navel. She was not fat, but not lean like most of the girls. When she had her g-string on, her tummy just stuck over it. To me, a belly and navel man, she was a ten. Not fat, not lean, just a nice soft feminine look, like a nice soft pillow. She was one of the few dancers I would move to the rack to watch.
Debbi watched closely as the brunette went through her first dance removing a loose-fitting dress and a halter top. She placed a dollar on the counter for the second set. As it started the dancer removed her g-string, grabbed the brass pole in the middle of the floor swung around it twice with her legs open. Then she stepped upon the bar, gyrated her hips and rubbed the top of her pubis. She ran her fingers down through the neatly trimmed tuft of thick black hair over her clitoris and between the lips of her vulva, spreading them slightly. Lowering herself to a kneeling position, she moved forward until her nipples were inches from my face.
Debbi smiled at me, noticing I was feeling a little uncomfortable. I could smell the faint scent of Peach on her body and told the dancer she smelt like a Peach, to which she replied she usually left the bar smelling like an ashtray. The dancer was pleasant. Sitting back, she placed one leg on my right shoulder and the other on Debbie's left and again stroked herself, looking coyly at me and smiling at Debbie, who sat with a smile and watched the dancer intensely.
We were sitting through the second set. The blond had just finished her two dances and the brunet was getting ready for her entrance when I saw out of the corner of my eye a woman coming in and standing next to the ATM machine just inside the doorway. I thought it was another dancer coming to work. The brunette finished her first dance and was starting her second removing her g-string, when the lady at the ATM machine walked over to a man who had been lavishing his attention on the brunette, smacked him on the side of the head and yelled at him to get his ass home. He jumped up calling her a f---ing bitch and turned just in time to receive a knee in the groin that dropped him with a thud and a loud moan.
The dancer stopped her performance, picked up her clothes from the floor and started to leave. The angry wife came around and slugged the dancer in the jaw with a sharp right, making her stagger backwards and drop her few articles of clothing. She grabbed her jaw as she staggered backwards. The right was followed by a left jab to the mouth and a hard right to dancer's belly right below the belly button with a loud wamp. A loud ooooouuuffff was the dancer's only response as she doubled over and continued to stagger back wards. She finally stopped against the wall, knocking over a fake potted plant on a small shelf in a recess in the wall. The angry wife was on her instantly as the bartender shouted for her to leave before she called the cops. The wife paid no attention and continued her attack. Grabbing her by the hair, she straightened her up. Another loud wamp was heard as she wound up and sunk a fist deep into the soft belly. Ooouuffff, grunted the dancer as she slid into the recess on the wall and sort of sat on the small shelf. She was trying to cover her stomach and received a sharp slap to the side of the head for her effort. As she reached up to cover her face, the wife planted four quick blows to the soft exposed flesh of the dancer's belly, wamp oouuff, wamp ungg, wamp oouuff, wamp oooouuufff. The dancer was trying hard to gasp for air. The furious wife went to her breasts, pasting each one two or three times which brought sharp grunts from the battered girl. I started to get up to aid of the dancer but Debbi grabbed my arm and in a husky voice told me to stay out of it.
The wife threw another blow to the dancer's belly, placing it right on the bellybutton of the dancer. Ooooouuuuffff, as the air was again forced from the dancer's lungs. The wife's fist found the soft pillow of her stomach and pushed in almost to the wrist, forcing the wall of the abdomen inward toward the spine. The dancer's nude body half stood and half sat on the shelf where the plant used to be. Her back was lodged into the small recess of the wall, her arms now hung limply at her sides and her head lolled to one side, leaving her open to the punishment the angry wife was going to administer. With her left hand around the dancer's throat the woman threw hard rights to the exposed soft belly. Then she rotated again from her stomach to her perfectly proportioned breasts, swearing and calling her names in Spanish. With each blow to the breasts the dancer emitted a low groan. Then to the nude exposed stomach, wamp ooouuff, wamp oouuff. The blows caused the dancer's body to jerk, her arms and legs flopping as the blows lifted her off the small ledge where her naked body rested. Her position on the small shelf made a perfect target out of her battered and beaten belly.
Debbie's reaction to the battering the dancer was taking was really something. She was obviously turned on by the whole spectacle. I stood looking at the dancer whose belly was red and splotchy. Her legs were wide apart and offered no support, as the shelf held her upright and the grip around her throat from falling forward. Her well-trimmed cunt was not spared as the woman sent a hard shot between her legs. If the dancer had been unconscious she sure wasn't now. A loud short aaahhh was the result as her eyes opened wide at the shot slammed straight into the hairy soft lips of her sex.
The wife was tiring and slowed the punching until she just stood supporting the dancer and looking her straight in the eye. The dancer offered no resistance, accepting punches at the will of the tired and maddened lady. Her eyes were open and her mouth formed a round O as she gasped for breath, unable to move or defend herself, her body absorbing the punishment delivered by the small sharp fist of one angry wife.
"That's my money that son-of-a-bitch has been paying you to rub your pussy in his face, you slut," the woman said.
The dancer tried to answer but received another direct hit on the bellybutton. Ooouuffff was the only answer the angry wife wanted to hear.
"The next time you go to stealing somebody's man you had better be ready to receive your due."
Wamp, uunnggg, the fist slammed into the girls badly battered abdomen. Finally having tired herself out and starting to perspire heavily, the wife pulled the dancer out of the recess by her hair. The dancer fell forward and the woman brought her knee up into the pit of the dancer's stomach, receiving a loud ooouuuffffff for her effort. As the girl lay in a fetal position on the floor the wife put her foot on her left breast and pressed down. She gave her instructions once more, "Stay away form other women's men."
The dancer let out a weak yell and feebly grabbed at the booted foot that bore down on her battered boob, causing her to straighten out and feebly thrash back and forth. It was what the house wife wanted, it was now time for the coup de grace, a boot right to the crotch. Straight in between her open legs and dead center of the completely exposed and unprotected cunt. uuunnnggghhhh.
As the wife started for the door, the husband was on his feet, using the small bar for support. She walked up behind him and without a word brought her foot up from behind and kicked him directly between the legs. The shot was perfect, he went down again with a loud grunt, hitting his head on the bar, knocking himself unconscious.
By now the bartender was there, a well built attractive brunette whom I had seen dancing once or twice, looking like she could hold her own. As she approached the wife, she held up her hands as if to say, hey, not me, and said, "You had better split, the cops are on their way." The way she said it and the half smile on her face told me whose side she was on. The wife turned and hurried out of the bar.
Debbi grabbed me and dragged me out by the wrist. It was obvious that the fight had stimulated her as much as me. We were pulling out of the parking lot as the police cruiser arrived.
"Geez, I need a smoke," Debbi grumbled.
"I thought you didn't smoke," I said.
"Normally, I don't."
That said it all. On the way back to my place we stopped for some cigarettes. We both had one and neither of us spoke.
As soon as I closed the door to my place, Debbi turned to me, her dark root-beer-colored eyes looked serious, flashing with the fires that burned brightly in her. She took me by the wrist and said, "I need you to do something for me."
I Could guess, but still I asked, "What?"
She was shaking slightly, "I need you to punch me in the belly, I need you to do it and do it until," her voice trailed off.
"I don't want to hurt you."
The fire in her large brown eyes intensified, "I can take it, I can take a lot," her voice was almost a harsh whisper. "Do me."
"Ok, but as soon as you nod your head up and down, I stop. OK?"
She didn't answer, only nodded.
"Take off your blouse," I ordered.
She didn't hesitate, she stood in a black lacy bra and jeans ready for whatever I was going to do to her.
"Remember, I don't want to hurt you, all you have to do is move your head up and down a couple of times and I will stop."
"I can take a lot," she said huskily through heavy breaths, she was obviously turned on.
She started to say something else but I put my finger to her lips, "Shhh, we will do this my way."
She quickly became silent and stood with her arms at her side. I hooked my left fore finger under the front of her bra and smiling at her pulled her forward with a nice gentle motion and brought my right fist into her stomach. Not a hard punch, but it had its effect. Debbi doubled over grunting ooouufffff. When she straightened up she had a smile of satisfaction and pleasure on her face. I started rubbing the soft slope of her tummy with my left hand and putting my face close to hers.
"As soon as you stop doing what I tell you or complain, I quit, understand?"
She started to speak but I put my finger to her lips, she smiled and nodded. I ran my right hand through her hair slowly and taking a firm grip of her brown tresses brought my left fist into the side of her soft belly, uunngg. She leaned and dipped to the left and then straightened up. I stood back and told her to put her hands behind her head. She stood, feet slightly apart, and placed her hands behind her head. I hooked two fingers of my left hand under the front of her bra and shot a right into the right side of her soft tummy. Uunngg, she staggered a little and dipped to the right, I pulled her back into place with the two fingers hooked under her bra. The next one went straight into the bellybutton, she bent over my fist fighting to keep her hands behind her head and in a few moments straightened up. I let her stand for a second and put the next right in the same place, just a little harder. She doubled over and went to her knees, grabbing her stomach. I tried to hold her up with the front of her bra but only succeeded in causing both of her well-proportioned breasts to pop out of the bottom of the bra to which I still held. She slowly got to her feet and not bothering with her breasts, placed both hands behind her head again. I was now as turned on as she was. I unhooked the front of her bra with my left hand and sent a quick sharp slap to her left full breast as the same time I shot my fist into her belly, oouuuufffff. She was on her knees holding her belly with her head touching the floor.
While she was in this position I brought my chinning bar from behind the couch. By the time Debbi had regained her feet I had it set up. I put her wrists into the cuffs which I used to hang from. She stood almost on her tiptoes, bare breasted, waiting for me to punch her stomach. I undid the front of her jeans and pulled them down on to her hips. Then I rubbed her tummy and punched her, uunnggg. I hit her tits, kissed them and while I sucked on the taught nipples went to her tummy again, uunnggg, and again, uuunnggg. Once, twice, three then four times. She was starting to perspire, and her soft white flesh glistened as I took my time torturing her with the pain and pleasure I knew she felt.
Kissing her on her soft wet lips, I pushed her jeans off and slipped my left hand under the waistband of her panties. I kneaded and massaged her damp sex while punching her soft belly. She started thrashing and groaning. Finally I pulled Debbi's underpants off and with one finger on her clit pumped three heavy blows into her heaving stomach.
Oooouuufffff, uuuunnnggg, unnnnggghhh.
I could tell Debbi was close to exhaustion and I still had not let her climax. Undoing the cuffs on the pole, I carried her over to the couch, tied her hands behind her back, knelt beside her and started kissing her, roughly massaging her breasts and clitoris and lightly poking her in the stomach. She was withering in ecstasy and agony at the same time and started pleading.
"Fuck me, beat me, god, make me cum, pleassssse dear god, please."
I pulled her hips up over the arm of the couch, spread her legs, let my pants drop and slid into her. She was soaking wet, moaning and pleading. With my left thumb I went to work on her clitoris while I tried to keep from doing the deed myself. With my right hand I softly punched her in the stomach, matching my punches with my strokes. Suddenly she went rigid, moaning and thrashing wildly.
I drew back and said "Okay Debbi, here it comes."
I rammed my fist into the soft tender flesh of her belly just below the navel while jamming myself as hard and as deep into her as I could.
She was out for a few minutes. When she came to, she lay there on my couch, naked, sweaty, contented, her thick brown mane askew and matted with sweat from her exertion. I had covered her with a warm throw from the back of the couch and she snuggled against it. The fire I had lit in the fireplace was coming to life. I sat next to her on the couch. She smiled a smile of satisfaction, her dark brooding eyes now full of happiness. Placing her hand on my thigh, she whispered, "I'm gonna have to keep you around for a while, at least for one more time.
I was standing outside of my front door cussing and fuming over the fact that the damned dead bolt had a mind of its own and worked about as well I did with a hangover.
I heard someone come up the steps and stop across from me putting a key into the lock. Knowing that the occupant of the condo across from mine was living with her new hubby, I turned to see who it was.
"Hi, my name is Bill, I guess you must be the new owner?"
An attractive brunette turned to face me and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Debbi. No, this is not my new digs, I'm just staying here while I look for a job, the owner is an old friend."
Without thinking I asked, "You're not from around here, are you?"
She gave me a polite smile and answered, "No, how can you tell?"
I smiled, "The only people who wear sun glasses around here are eternal optimists and rock stars."
She thought for a minute, then felt around her head and found the sunglasses practically lost in a dark mass of wind blown auburn hair. "Oh," she laughed, "that's right, this is Seattle, hun?"
Turning her key in the lock, she opened the door and said, "It's been nice meeting you." Then she stepped inside and closed her door, leaving me to curse mine.
It had been a couple of days since I had met my new neighbor and I had just finished making dinner, a large pot of spaghetti, when I heard a very unfamiliar sound, someone knocking on my door. Turning the stove down low, I went to answer it. There she was, looking somewhat upset.
"Hi, neighbor, can I do something for you?"
She looked at me with a forced smile, "Can I use your phone, I don't know when the phone company is going to get around to installing mine."
"Sure, come on it."
"Man, it smells good in here."
"Spaghetti and French bread," I said, pointing to the cordless on a table by the television. "Help yourself."
She crossed the small room, picked up the phone, pushed back a shock of her unruly dark hair, punched in a number and spoke into the mouthpiece.
"Hello, my name is Debbi and I brought in a gray Honda Accord to have you look at." She let out an audible sigh and shrank at the shoulders. "That bad, hun? No, I can't afford that, I'll come over tomorrow and pick it up."
"Bad news?"
It was easy to see she was upset. "It needs a clutch and throw something or other, and brakes. Minimum, five-hundred dollars." She was on the verge of tears.
"Well, you can't worry about it on an empty stomach, sit down and have some dinner with me."
"I can't, I have to go job hunting and figure out a way to get my car home."
I went to the table, poured a glass of wine for her and said, "Here." I took the phone from her hand and offered her the wine. "Don't worry, I have a dishwasher, you won't have to wash dishes for your supper."
She took the glass of wine and relinquished the phone, a weak smile slid across her pretty face. "Thanks."
Two weeks passed. She had been busing it into town and walking to and from the bus stop a few blocks away. A few times, when the weather was bad, I took her to the store and the bank and asked her over for dinner on a regular basis. She appreciated it and I enjoyed the companionship of a younger woman. I felt really fortunate, Debbi was not only an attractive brunette with a fine figure. She was vivacious, had a great sense of humor and laughed easily. Finally, on one our trips to the store, she told me that she was going through some very rough financial problems and that she really appreciated my help. She had been out of a job for some weeks already and working part time at anything she could find.
Three nights later she asked me if I had ever been to the Topless Plus Bar a mile or so from our condominiums. "Topless plus" meant the gals stripped completely. I smiled and said I visited often on Fridays. She asked me what kind of place it was and what I thought of the girls working there. It was obvious where all this was going, and after a few minutes of questioning she said that she was thinking about working there until she could get back on her feet financially or some better paying jobs came along. I told her that the place was like any other of that nature and that it was clean. From what I had seen as a visitor, the girls did okay and were not hassled by the men. When I asked her if she had ever danced nude before, she blushed and said, no, and she was going to work as a bartender not a dancer. Just my luck, I teased. She laughed at my mock disappointment and asked if I would take her there and buy her a few beers so she could look over the place and meet the bartender and manager.
The following night I took Debbi to Al's Topless Plus and had a beer while she talked to the bartender. I was on my second beer, watching an attractive blond doing her thing when Debbi asked me to join her at the rack. The rack is the small bar that runs around the dance floor where the girls stripped and accepted tips. If you put a dollar on the edge of the rack, the girl would come over and dance in front of you bending this way and that, displaying all that there is to display. Sitting there I often felt like I was part of a gynecological examination. But to be honest, there were one or two girls whom I did tip and enjoyed talking to at the bar when their performance was done. Each girl did two dances, during the first one they stripped to a g-string, during the second, they danced nude. Generally on Friday and Saturday nights business was best. That day was Wednesday so business was a little slow. I sat by Debbi who sat next to the entrance to the dance floor. That way, I supposed, she could talk to the dancers as they entered and exited the floor. Besides Debbi and myself there were two other guys at the rack; both looked at me with envy written all over their faces.
A short well-proportioned girl with short black hair, bright blue eyes, nice tits and a soft rounded belly came up next. I had seen the girl dancing in the bar before on Friday nights. She was good at what she did and had a couple of male admirers who were always there when she was dancing, at least according to Maggie, the bartender. Maggie and I both were students and I was then an aspiring writer who probably asked too many questions. According to Maggie, one of the men now seated at the rack was married and wanted to leave his wife if Sandy, the dancer accepted to move in with him. Apparently never said yes, but never said no, either. The guy tipped her well and bought at least one or two table dances a night. If memory served me correctly, that was twenty dollars a dance. A table dance consisted of the same performance at a table off to the side where it was more personal or private.
I thought she had a nice figure and a lovely tummy with a deep navel. She was not fat, but not lean like most of the girls. When she had her g-string on, her tummy just stuck over it. To me, a belly and navel man, she was a ten. Not fat, not lean, just a nice soft feminine look, like a nice soft pillow. She was one of the few dancers I would move to the rack to watch.
Debbi watched closely as the brunette went through her first dance removing a loose-fitting dress and a halter top. She placed a dollar on the counter for the second set. As it started the dancer removed her g-string, grabbed the brass pole in the middle of the floor swung around it twice with her legs open. Then she stepped upon the bar, gyrated her hips and rubbed the top of her pubis. She ran her fingers down through the neatly trimmed tuft of thick black hair over her clitoris and between the lips of her vulva, spreading them slightly. Lowering herself to a kneeling position, she moved forward until her nipples were inches from my face.
Debbi smiled at me, noticing I was feeling a little uncomfortable. I could smell the faint scent of Peach on her body and told the dancer she smelt like a Peach, to which she replied she usually left the bar smelling like an ashtray. The dancer was pleasant. Sitting back, she placed one leg on my right shoulder and the other on Debbie's left and again stroked herself, looking coyly at me and smiling at Debbie, who sat with a smile and watched the dancer intensely.
We were sitting through the second set. The blond had just finished her two dances and the brunet was getting ready for her entrance when I saw out of the corner of my eye a woman coming in and standing next to the ATM machine just inside the doorway. I thought it was another dancer coming to work. The brunette finished her first dance and was starting her second removing her g-string, when the lady at the ATM machine walked over to a man who had been lavishing his attention on the brunette, smacked him on the side of the head and yelled at him to get his ass home. He jumped up calling her a f---ing bitch and turned just in time to receive a knee in the groin that dropped him with a thud and a loud moan.
The dancer stopped her performance, picked up her clothes from the floor and started to leave. The angry wife came around and slugged the dancer in the jaw with a sharp right, making her stagger backwards and drop her few articles of clothing. She grabbed her jaw as she staggered backwards. The right was followed by a left jab to the mouth and a hard right to dancer's belly right below the belly button with a loud wamp. A loud ooooouuuffff was the dancer's only response as she doubled over and continued to stagger back wards. She finally stopped against the wall, knocking over a fake potted plant on a small shelf in a recess in the wall. The angry wife was on her instantly as the bartender shouted for her to leave before she called the cops. The wife paid no attention and continued her attack. Grabbing her by the hair, she straightened her up. Another loud wamp was heard as she wound up and sunk a fist deep into the soft belly. Ooouuffff, grunted the dancer as she slid into the recess on the wall and sort of sat on the small shelf. She was trying to cover her stomach and received a sharp slap to the side of the head for her effort. As she reached up to cover her face, the wife planted four quick blows to the soft exposed flesh of the dancer's belly, wamp oouuff, wamp ungg, wamp oouuff, wamp oooouuufff. The dancer was trying hard to gasp for air. The furious wife went to her breasts, pasting each one two or three times which brought sharp grunts from the battered girl. I started to get up to aid of the dancer but Debbi grabbed my arm and in a husky voice told me to stay out of it.
The wife threw another blow to the dancer's belly, placing it right on the bellybutton of the dancer. Ooooouuuuffff, as the air was again forced from the dancer's lungs. The wife's fist found the soft pillow of her stomach and pushed in almost to the wrist, forcing the wall of the abdomen inward toward the spine. The dancer's nude body half stood and half sat on the shelf where the plant used to be. Her back was lodged into the small recess of the wall, her arms now hung limply at her sides and her head lolled to one side, leaving her open to the punishment the angry wife was going to administer. With her left hand around the dancer's throat the woman threw hard rights to the exposed soft belly. Then she rotated again from her stomach to her perfectly proportioned breasts, swearing and calling her names in Spanish. With each blow to the breasts the dancer emitted a low groan. Then to the nude exposed stomach, wamp ooouuff, wamp oouuff. The blows caused the dancer's body to jerk, her arms and legs flopping as the blows lifted her off the small ledge where her naked body rested. Her position on the small shelf made a perfect target out of her battered and beaten belly.
Debbie's reaction to the battering the dancer was taking was really something. She was obviously turned on by the whole spectacle. I stood looking at the dancer whose belly was red and splotchy. Her legs were wide apart and offered no support, as the shelf held her upright and the grip around her throat from falling forward. Her well-trimmed cunt was not spared as the woman sent a hard shot between her legs. If the dancer had been unconscious she sure wasn't now. A loud short aaahhh was the result as her eyes opened wide at the shot slammed straight into the hairy soft lips of her sex.
The wife was tiring and slowed the punching until she just stood supporting the dancer and looking her straight in the eye. The dancer offered no resistance, accepting punches at the will of the tired and maddened lady. Her eyes were open and her mouth formed a round O as she gasped for breath, unable to move or defend herself, her body absorbing the punishment delivered by the small sharp fist of one angry wife.
"That's my money that son-of-a-bitch has been paying you to rub your pussy in his face, you slut," the woman said.
The dancer tried to answer but received another direct hit on the bellybutton. Ooouuffff was the only answer the angry wife wanted to hear.
"The next time you go to stealing somebody's man you had better be ready to receive your due."
Wamp, uunnggg, the fist slammed into the girls badly battered abdomen. Finally having tired herself out and starting to perspire heavily, the wife pulled the dancer out of the recess by her hair. The dancer fell forward and the woman brought her knee up into the pit of the dancer's stomach, receiving a loud ooouuuffffff for her effort. As the girl lay in a fetal position on the floor the wife put her foot on her left breast and pressed down. She gave her instructions once more, "Stay away form other women's men."
The dancer let out a weak yell and feebly grabbed at the booted foot that bore down on her battered boob, causing her to straighten out and feebly thrash back and forth. It was what the house wife wanted, it was now time for the coup de grace, a boot right to the crotch. Straight in between her open legs and dead center of the completely exposed and unprotected cunt. uuunnnggghhhh.
As the wife started for the door, the husband was on his feet, using the small bar for support. She walked up behind him and without a word brought her foot up from behind and kicked him directly between the legs. The shot was perfect, he went down again with a loud grunt, hitting his head on the bar, knocking himself unconscious.
By now the bartender was there, a well built attractive brunette whom I had seen dancing once or twice, looking like she could hold her own. As she approached the wife, she held up her hands as if to say, hey, not me, and said, "You had better split, the cops are on their way." The way she said it and the half smile on her face told me whose side she was on. The wife turned and hurried out of the bar.
Debbi grabbed me and dragged me out by the wrist. It was obvious that the fight had stimulated her as much as me. We were pulling out of the parking lot as the police cruiser arrived.
"Geez, I need a smoke," Debbi grumbled.
"I thought you didn't smoke," I said.
"Normally, I don't."
That said it all. On the way back to my place we stopped for some cigarettes. We both had one and neither of us spoke.
As soon as I closed the door to my place, Debbi turned to me, her dark root-beer-colored eyes looked serious, flashing with the fires that burned brightly in her. She took me by the wrist and said, "I need you to do something for me."
I Could guess, but still I asked, "What?"
She was shaking slightly, "I need you to punch me in the belly, I need you to do it and do it until," her voice trailed off.
"I don't want to hurt you."
The fire in her large brown eyes intensified, "I can take it, I can take a lot," her voice was almost a harsh whisper. "Do me."
"Ok, but as soon as you nod your head up and down, I stop. OK?"
She didn't answer, only nodded.
"Take off your blouse," I ordered.
She didn't hesitate, she stood in a black lacy bra and jeans ready for whatever I was going to do to her.
"Remember, I don't want to hurt you, all you have to do is move your head up and down a couple of times and I will stop."
"I can take a lot," she said huskily through heavy breaths, she was obviously turned on.
She started to say something else but I put my finger to her lips, "Shhh, we will do this my way."
She quickly became silent and stood with her arms at her side. I hooked my left fore finger under the front of her bra and smiling at her pulled her forward with a nice gentle motion and brought my right fist into her stomach. Not a hard punch, but it had its effect. Debbi doubled over grunting ooouufffff. When she straightened up she had a smile of satisfaction and pleasure on her face. I started rubbing the soft slope of her tummy with my left hand and putting my face close to hers.
"As soon as you stop doing what I tell you or complain, I quit, understand?"
She started to speak but I put my finger to her lips, she smiled and nodded. I ran my right hand through her hair slowly and taking a firm grip of her brown tresses brought my left fist into the side of her soft belly, uunngg. She leaned and dipped to the left and then straightened up. I stood back and told her to put her hands behind her head. She stood, feet slightly apart, and placed her hands behind her head. I hooked two fingers of my left hand under the front of her bra and shot a right into the right side of her soft tummy. Uunngg, she staggered a little and dipped to the right, I pulled her back into place with the two fingers hooked under her bra. The next one went straight into the bellybutton, she bent over my fist fighting to keep her hands behind her head and in a few moments straightened up. I let her stand for a second and put the next right in the same place, just a little harder. She doubled over and went to her knees, grabbing her stomach. I tried to hold her up with the front of her bra but only succeeded in causing both of her well-proportioned breasts to pop out of the bottom of the bra to which I still held. She slowly got to her feet and not bothering with her breasts, placed both hands behind her head again. I was now as turned on as she was. I unhooked the front of her bra with my left hand and sent a quick sharp slap to her left full breast as the same time I shot my fist into her belly, oouuuufffff. She was on her knees holding her belly with her head touching the floor.
While she was in this position I brought my chinning bar from behind the couch. By the time Debbi had regained her feet I had it set up. I put her wrists into the cuffs which I used to hang from. She stood almost on her tiptoes, bare breasted, waiting for me to punch her stomach. I undid the front of her jeans and pulled them down on to her hips. Then I rubbed her tummy and punched her, uunnggg. I hit her tits, kissed them and while I sucked on the taught nipples went to her tummy again, uunnggg, and again, uuunnggg. Once, twice, three then four times. She was starting to perspire, and her soft white flesh glistened as I took my time torturing her with the pain and pleasure I knew she felt.
Kissing her on her soft wet lips, I pushed her jeans off and slipped my left hand under the waistband of her panties. I kneaded and massaged her damp sex while punching her soft belly. She started thrashing and groaning. Finally I pulled Debbi's underpants off and with one finger on her clit pumped three heavy blows into her heaving stomach.
Oooouuufffff, uuuunnnggg, unnnnggghhh.
I could tell Debbi was close to exhaustion and I still had not let her climax. Undoing the cuffs on the pole, I carried her over to the couch, tied her hands behind her back, knelt beside her and started kissing her, roughly massaging her breasts and clitoris and lightly poking her in the stomach. She was withering in ecstasy and agony at the same time and started pleading.
"Fuck me, beat me, god, make me cum, pleassssse dear god, please."
I pulled her hips up over the arm of the couch, spread her legs, let my pants drop and slid into her. She was soaking wet, moaning and pleading. With my left thumb I went to work on her clitoris while I tried to keep from doing the deed myself. With my right hand I softly punched her in the stomach, matching my punches with my strokes. Suddenly she went rigid, moaning and thrashing wildly.
I drew back and said "Okay Debbi, here it comes."
I rammed my fist into the soft tender flesh of her belly just below the navel while jamming myself as hard and as deep into her as I could.
She was out for a few minutes. When she came to, she lay there on my couch, naked, sweaty, contented, her thick brown mane askew and matted with sweat from her exertion. I had covered her with a warm throw from the back of the couch and she snuggled against it. The fire I had lit in the fireplace was coming to life. I sat next to her on the couch. She smiled a smile of satisfaction, her dark brooding eyes now full of happiness. Placing her hand on my thigh, she whispered, "I'm gonna have to keep you around for a while, at least for one more time.