Punch Drunk: Black Alpha Male Dominates Submissive White Couple Read online

  Oliver laughed. “Call me Oliver,” he grinned, and wrapped his huge black paw around Ross’s hand and crushed the smaller man’s fingers in his.

  Ross clutched his aching hand the moment Oliver released it – and then the towering African turned to Ross’s pretty wife.

  She offered her small hand to him. Grinning, Oliver took it and placed a soft kiss on her palm.

  “Mr. Thompson,” Oliver purred, looking deep into Keri’s eyes. “Your wife is absolutely beautiful.”

  “W-why thank you,” Ross stammered.

  But Oliver wasn’t listening.

  He’d been watching Keri intently, the moment he took her slender hand in his. When their eyes had locked, and he’d brushed his lips against her palm, Keri’s cheeks had turned red, and her pupils had dilated.

  The big fighter grinned like a predator.

  The match had begun.

  Chapter Five

  “So, what did you bring me to sign,” Oliver boomed, turning to Keri’s star-struck husband.

  “Oh, yeah, right,” Ross grinned, passing over his collection of MMA championship swag. There were posters, a DVD – even a baseball cap.”

  “You have a pen?”

  When Ross supplied Oliver with a sharpie, the big African methodically signed each item with his flowing signature. Ross accepted each item back excitedly, looking at the signature with a huge grin on his face.

  Eventually, Oliver was done. He grabbed a plastic bag from the sideboard and passed it over. “Here, so they don’t get ruined.”

  Ross accepted it gratefully.

  Sharpie still in his massive hand, Oliver grinned: “Anything else you want me to sign while I’m here?”

  And, as he said that, he turned and stared at Keri.

  Keri caught him looking – and then accidentally made eye-contact with the huge fighter. Her cheeks immediately turned pink, and she looked away self-consciously.

  “I-I think that’s it,” Ross had finished loading his stuff into the bag. “Thank you so much!”

  Oliver laughed good-naturedly. He checked the clock on the wall.

  In another fifteen minutes or so, Obami would be back to take him for dinner. Normally, at this sort of meet-and-greet, he’d be showing his guests out right about now.

  But Oliver was still feeling that intense dissatisfaction – an appetite for closure that his short-lived bout with Mika Romanov hadn’t satisfied.

  Perhaps he could have a little fun with this couple before they left.

  “Say, we still have a couple of minutes,” Oliver grinned. “If you both have another vodka with me, maybe we’ll sit down and talk.”

  Once again, Keri and Ross exchanged nervously, but excited glances.

  Oliver grinned wickedly.

  “W-we’d love to,” Ross answered for the both of them.

  “Kinjozi!” Oliver grinned, and poured three more overflowing glasses of Svedka.

  This was all part of Oliver’s plan, of course. At 419lbs of mostly-muscle, he could drink a 70cl bottle of vodka and barely feel warm inside. When it came to people like Keri and Ross, however, he knew big glasses of neat alcohol would strip through their inhibitions pretty fast.

  “Vifijo!” Oliver raised his glass again, and effortlessly gulped down four ounces of vodka. This time, neither Keri nor Ross was able to drain their glass – but they made a heroic effort, and were both left red-faced and swaying slightly afterward.

  “Come on,” with a devilish grin, Oliver flopped down into the chair opposite and spread his legs nonchalantly. “Relax, and take a seat for a minute.”

  Chapter Six

  Keri’s eyes widened the moment Oliver sat down.

  First off, watching this enormous black bull of a man sit in a regular-sized chair was like watching a grown-up sitting in a toddler chair at Pre-K.

  But it wasn’t that which made her practically spit out her vodka.

  As Oliver flopped casually into the chair, he spread his legs – and, in doing so, opened up the front of his too-short robe.

  Keri immediately caught sight of his junk. His big, black junk.

  She flopped down into her seat with a gasp, face turning absolutely red. A nervous glance in Ross’s direction revealed that her oblivious husband hadn’t even noticed! He was asking Oliver about that evening’s bout.

  Nervously, Keri glanced back – just to confirm that she wasn’t imagining Oliver’s accidental flashing.

  At least, she assumed it was accidental.

  But, no, she wasn’t imagining it. As Oliver lounged back in his chair, she got a full view up under his robe, and she could see everything.

  Keri’s mouth went dry.

  Fuck me, she thought. Oliver wasn’t just large on the outside.

  Breath quickening, and butterflies in her stomach, Keri reached for her glass of vodka and took two nervous, stomach-scalding swallows.

  As she did that, she stared at what Oliver was (she assumed) ‘accidentally’ presenting her with.

  It was huge. And black. And oh, my God…

  A big, thick, long black dick that was easily as wide and girthy as Keri’s own forearm. It reached nearly to Oliver’s knee.

  And beneath that, two enormous goose-egg sized balls – balls so big and black that Keri could probably have cradled one of each in the palm of her small hands.

  She shuddered, and felt a throb between her legs at the mental image.

  Whether intentionally or not, Oliver lounged back in his seat, and exposed more of his enormous dick and balls to the young couple as he did so.

  This time, Ross did notice. He sat down abruptly in his seat, and his eyes shot open wide. Then he looked frantically back and forth, between the enormous African and his startled blonde wife.

  They made eye contact, and the look in Ross’s eyes was unmistakable:

  “Does he know that he’s flashing us?”

  And the scary thing? Keri had a sneaking suspicion that he did.

  Chapter Seven

  Of course Oliver knew that he was flashing them.

  That was all part of his plan.

  By now, he’d gotten it down to a fine art. Pour a lot of liquor down a girl (and her boyfriend or husband, too, if you had to.) Then flash her the ‘equipment.’ Oliver picked his under-sized robes specifically because he knew his big black cock and balls would hang out the bottom if he sat incorrectly.

  Next, if the girl hadn’t run screaming from the room by that point (and this pretty Keri girl clearly hadn’t) then it was fair game to implement the third and final phase of the plan:

  Escalating things…

  “So, Ross!” Oliver raised his empty glass, and prompted Ross to gulp down another mouthful of vodka. “I asked you if there was anything else you wanted me to sign.”

  Ross looked confused. And a little bleary-eyed. That vodka was hitting him pretty fast.

  “I-I don’t get you,” he murmured. “I think you signed everything in my bag…”

  Oliver grinned wolfishly. He turned to Keri.

  “Well, last week when I was down in Vegas, I had some guy come up and ask me to sign his wife’s boobs.” Oliver winked. “Of course, I obliged.”

  And, as Ross struggled to process this information, Oliver turned to look at Keri and locked her gaze in his. Keri shuddered as the African’s eye blue eyes captured her completely.

  Oliver grinned. And, still staring deep into Keri’s eyes, he very casually reached down and ‘adjusted’ himself under his robe.

  Keri moaned a little, as she watched this huge man take his giant hand, and casually squeeze his enormous black cock and balls right in front of her.

  Oliver’s smile widened.

  “W-wait,” Ross was finally catching up. “Did you say you signed her boobs?”

  “That’s exactly what I said,” Oliver nodded. He stood up them, letting his robe fall back down and hide his massive, swinging junk from view.

  Crossing the dressing room, he reached into the ice-bucket for a
nother 24-ounce bottle of Tusker, and popped it open with his teeth.

  Ross was sitting there, looking a little bleary eyed.

  “S-sign her boobs?”

  Oliver grinned. He was taking the bait.

  “Exactly,” the huge African grinned. “She whipped down her top, I signed them with Sharpies, and we took a picture.” He gulped down two long draughts of beer. “The guy was so proud. He told me he was going to show all his buddies back home.”

  Ross’s face turned red at the thought.

  “So,” Oliver grinned, pulling the Sharpie from his pocket. “You want me to sign this lovely young lady’s boobies, or what?”

  Chapter Eight

  Keri’s eyes shot open wide.

  Did she just hear that right?

  “Her boobs?” Just in case she hadn’t, Oliver was very kindly repeating himself. “Do you want me to sign them?

  Keri sat there, stunned.

  She’d never heard anything like it in her life. It was crass. It was cheap. It was slutty.

  She gulped dryly, and squirmed in her seat. Her pussy was quivering.

  “K-Keri?” Ross was turning to his wife, and looking at her quizzically. “D’you want to? Y’know… For fun?” And his face was so open and genuine that Keri almost felt bad at the thought of turning her husband down.

  And then, as she sat there, the vodka continued doing its work and Keri began considering Oliver’s question a little more critically.

  Sign her boobs? Why the fuck not?

  She realized that this Oliver guy clearly thought she was cute. The fact that her panties were practically dripping confirmed that the feeling was mutual.

  Maybe it would be fun!

  Just a quick, careless, irresponsible bit of fun. Something for her and Ross to joke about in years to come. I mean, they were only boobs, right? So what if Oliver saw them?

  Her pussy throbbed.

  In fact, it might be kind of nice if Oliver saw them. Kind of a treat to show off her breasts to somebody other than her husband.

  “Okay,” Keri grinned. She stood up, and her cheeks turned pink. “Grab your cell-phone and take a quick picture.” And then she stepped over to Oliver, and stood in the shadow of this towering, powerful black man. “S-so… How do we do this?”

  Oliver grinned, and leered down at the tiny blonde wife.

  “Here,” he grinned. “Allow me.”

  And then he reached down with his huge hands, and tucked his massive thumbs into the straps of Keri’s tank top, and slowly peeled the spaghetti straps off her slender shoulders.

  “Fuck me,” Ross breathed, as he struggled to activate the camera on his cellphone.

  Oliver grinned, and pulled the straps of Keri’s top down further. She gasped, as inch after inch of skin was exposed. Looking up, she found herself caught in Oliver’s intense brown eyes, and she felt a shudder run through her whole body.

  Pop! Out sprang Keri’s breasts – pale, and pert, and topped with little brown nipples as hard as pencil erasers.

  “Well,” Oliver grinned. “What a beautiful canvas to work on.”

  And then, grabbing Keri’s slender shoulders, the massive fighter wheeled her around so she was facing her husband. The contrast of his dark, brown skin against her pale flesh was incredible.

  “Smile for the birdie,” Oliver grinned, tearing the top off the Sharpie with his teeth. “I’ve got to get writing.”

  Chapter Nine

  Oliver felt blood rushing to his cock.

  This was the addictive part of it all.

  This was like the moment you caught a cage-match opponent in your arms.

  From here on in, it was all like a game of chess – plotting three moves ahead and manipulating your opponent into doing exactly what you wanted them to do.

  In MMA, that meant thinking three wrestling moves ahead, so by the time your opponent thinks they’ve wriggled out of one grapple, they realize they’ve wriggled themselves into a much more vulnerable position.

  Or, in the case of Keri and her husband, while they thought they were being reckless and free-spirited, Oliver was actually manipulating them into doing what he wanted.

  “Okay, say ‘cheese’!” Ross leered, and snapped a photo of Keri’s bare breasts with his cell-phone.

  “Ross!” Keri’s cheeks burned red. “He hasn’t even written anything yet!”

  “Don’t blame him,” Oliver grinned, reaching down with his big hands. “You have beautiful breasts. You can’t blame him for wanting a photo of them.”

  Keri’s cheeks burned red.

  “Here,” Oliver turned a little, and positioned himself next to Keri. He was towering over her, and she was like a tiny doll beneath his shadow. “Let me write.”

  And then Oliver grabbed one of Keri’s breasts in his huge, black hand, and heard her moan as she felt his calloused palm on her smooth, soft skin. The contrast of brown skin against white was excruciatingly erotic.

  “Huuuungh,” Keri bit her lip, and squirmed a little where she was standing. Oliver grinned as he watched. She was rubbing her thighs together; and he thought he knew why.

  “Stand still,” the huge African grinned, and then he squeezed Keri’s breast to make the skin taut, and wrote his signature in black Sharpie across both breasts.

  Keri closed her eyes and groaned as she felt the wet ink scribbled over her chest.

  “There!” Grinning, Oliver took a step back and admired his handiwork. “Not bad, even if I do say so myself.”

  Opening her eyes, Keri looked down and saw the writing on her boobs. Then she looked up, and found Ross zooming in with his cell-phone camera.

  A little drunkenly, Keri smiled playfully, and then pulled Oliver in so that Ross could take a picture of both her and him. Ross obliged happily, snapping off a half-dozen shots.

  “Wow,” the drunken husband grinned. “Just wait until the guys back home see these.”

  “Ross!” Keri squealed with mock-embarrassment. “You can’t show them my tits!”

  “Oh, come on,” Ross pleaded. “This is Oliver-fucking Adami here!”

  Oliver laughed, his chest rumbling. Wrapping his arm around Ross’s tiny wife, he grinned for the camera and said: “Take another! Come on!” And then he squeezed one of Keri’s breasts, and she giggled and squealed playfully.

  “Wow!” Ross’s eyes were wide. He snapped some more photos.

  The three of them were laughing playfully – although Keri and Ross were a little hysterical. Oliver grinned wolfishly as he listened to them; knowing that the vodka and the atmosphere was stripping their inhibitions.

  That’s when he decided to up the ante.

  “Okay, okay,” the big African laughed. “You guys have had your fun. But there’s a price to pay for that photo.”

  Keri and Ross exchanged curious glances. Still chuckling, Ross turned to the MMA fighter and asked: “Price? What’s the price?”

  And that’s when Oliver’s arms curled around Keri’s slender waist, and he pulled Ross’s wife close to him.

  “Your wife’s going to have to give me a kiss.”

  Chapter Ten

  “A kiss?”

  Ross and Keri laughed nervously again, and Keri giggled as she squirmed in Oliver’s iron grip.

  But the big, black man’s grip was iron, and after a second or two, Keri looked up nervously as she realized Oliver wasn’t letting her go.

  “Just a little kiss,” the African laughed, with steely intensity.

  Keri glanced nervously at Ross. Ross was looking back at her with a little bit of concern in his eyes.

  But the vodka was swilling around in his stomach, and his wife’s breasts were out on display, so Ross swallowed his concern and laughed: “It’s Oliver Adami, baby. A little kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

  Keri giggled, squirming in the big man’s grip.

  A little kiss wouldn’t hurt, right? And she wasn’t going to lie; it’s not as if she wasn’t feeling a little… ahem… excited by everythi
ng that had been going on that evening.

  Her panties had been damp watching Oliver punch his opponent across the room.

  Now she was topless, with the big man mauling her tits, Keri’s panties were practically soaked.

  “C’mon,” Ross was alarmingly game for this. “It’s Oliver Adami. Wouldn’t you like to boast that you’d kissed the African Hardwood?”

  Keri giggled.

  “Okay, okay,” the pretty blonde laughed. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

  Oliver grinned, and lowered his head so that she could reach his lips.

  Giggling, Keri gave her husband a playful wink, and then looked up at the looming figure of Oliver Adami, and stood up on her tip-toes.

  She gave him a quick, chaste peck on the lips.

  “There,” smiling triumphantly, Keri dropped back down onto the soles of her feet. “Your kiss, sir.”

  Oliver laughed wolfishly.

  “You call that a kiss?” He laughed.

  Keri’s cheeks burned red.

  “Yo, Mr. Thompson,” Oliver turned his head, and grinned devilishly at Keri’s eager husband. “Mind if I take a real kiss from your wife?”

  Ross blinked – as if he wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with the direction this ‘meet-and-greet’ was taking…

  But then again, he’d said it himself. This was Oliver-fucking Adami!

  Ross turned to Keri.

  “You okay with giving him a kiss, kiss?”

  Keri snorted, her cheeks turning red. Then she saw the look in her husband’s eyes, and realized he was serious.

  And then she giggled, thinking how wild and crazy it would be to actually kiss this famous MMA fighter.

  “O-okay,” she giggled nervously, and looked up into Oliver’s steely blue eyes. She puckered her lips, ready for a kiss.

  Oliver lifted her up in his arms, and pressed his mouth wetly against hers.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Woah,” Ross gasped, as he watched this 6’9” giant pick his wife up off the floor, and crush his mouth on hers.

  “Mmmmmph!” Keri mumbled, and then swooned in Oliver’s enormous arms.