This one's a bit different in that someone requested a little bit of ballbusting and navel torture as well. It's much more sexual than the ones, and a bit more ridiculous, but I enjoyed writing it. If you have any feedback or comments, or wanna talk to me about writing gp please just look me up under the name I posted with on this site and shoot me a pm.
I'd love to know where people think Jason's story should take him next!
Middle of July and I'm sprawled out on the sofa, one forearm on my forehead as my other hand flicks through the channels on the muted TV. The heat has chased me out of my clothes and I'm just in my boxers. Dad usually wouldn't approve of me getting my sweaty skin all over the couch, but he wasn't here right now and he never turned the thermostat below Fucking cheapskate. It had been a few months since I had had my first 'lesson' from him and I've gotta admit my pride's still a bit sore. After that match my dad made it a routine to get me down into the basement four times a week to work out with him for a few hours.
He was pretty much just teaching me how to fight.
How to block punches, how to throw them. He even tried to work on my 'soft spot' as he called it. Throwing punches into my paunch like it was a punching bag, making me do sit-ups and curls.
After about a month of me ending up on the ground, gagging he had given up on my abs. Apparently there was nothing I could do about it, I was just really sensitive there. I smirked, bringing my arm down from my forehead and rubbing my gut. I was glad for it to be over and, to be honest, now that he wasn't paying much attention to it anymore I had slacked off, neglecting the sit-ups, which I hated, and chugging beer all day while he was out.
It was a little bit bigger now, but not by much, not enough for him to notice.
Punch my belly, please
It was definitely softer, though. I can't help it, I call it bad genes. I inherited the developing gut but not the inherently hard muscles my dad had. But whatever, I was a linebacker, some of them have guts, and mine wasn't bad at all.
Just curved out a bit, like a small barrel and gave me a good center of gravity. It melded in well with my pecs anyways. See, while my gut might be a bit soft, I've got great muscle almost everywhere else. Chest, legs, especially my arms. I could even best my dad when it came to arm strength. It was just knowing how to throw a punch, and my dad knew exactly how to do that. I personally didn't mind the sessions we had.
If only he'd stop pestering me about college. I was good enough to play there, and Mr. Dix had made a deal with me to keep training while I attended his summer class for an 'enhanced' grade. Honestly, I just didn't wanna think about the whole thing.
I was being coached by two guys who were more than happy to beat the shit out of me. I probably wouldn't be able to live it down until I got them both back I move my hand down to scratch my balls, closing my eyes against the unbearable heat.
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Maybe I could just turn down the temp for an hour, he couldn't notice that, right? Just as I'm debating getting up, I hear a clank towards the kitchen. I open my eyes, hand frozen on my nuts. What the? Another clank, followed by some footsteps.
I sit up quickly, listening hard. Definitely footsteps I quickly grab the beer and look around, deciding to shove it between the couch cushions for now. I stand up slowly, then tip toe towards the sounds, which had quieted again. Usually dad would be way louder; banging open cabinets, grunting, maybe yelling at me for eating all of the left over pasta. I poke my head around the opening to the kitchen and immediately draw back. Shit shit shit! Definitely not my dad. Some big guy wearing a hoodie had had his back to me, sifting through the mail on the counter.
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Fucking hell, I definitely never though it would be a robber. It was broad daylight, I guess he saw the car was gone and assumed no one else was here. I start to go back towards the living room for my cell phone then stop. I think about it for a sec. My dad would just beat the shit out of this guy.
I grit my teeth, remembering all the times my old man dominated me, ridiculing me. If I could take this guy down, beat him unconscious, I know my dad would be at least a little impressed. I tentatively look back around the doorway and see that he hasn't moved. I size him up.
He was pretty big, about half a head taller than me. But he was probably just as wide, if not a bit chestier than I was. It was hard to tell his musculature with the hoodie on, but if I had the element of surprise on my hand, it probably wouldn't matter.
In that moment, I make my decision and step around the doorway to make my way towards him. I remember the headlock maneuver my dad had taught me and ready my arms for the attack. My heart beats hard and I barely breathe as I inch closer and closer.
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Just as I'm about five feet away, the unthinkable happens. A piece of paper he was sifting around slides off the counter and floats gently away He glances back at it and that's when he sees me. He whirls around and that's when I see that he's wearing a ski mask. I can still see his eyes widen and moth gape as he presses his back against the counter, staring at me. What he sees is a muscular, albeit paunchy eighteen year old kid, half naked with his hands raised foolishly in front of him. I stare back at him, then immediately lunge, realizing that this was my last chance of surprise.
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I try for an elbow to his face and, to my surprise, it works. It clocks him in the cheek and his head snaps back with a grunt of shock.
I follow up with a left, then a right to his body. To my dismay, my knuckles impact hard muscle, I could feel the cut definition of his abs even through his sweater. He doesn't so much as grunt. Swallowing, I grab the disorientated man by the back of his sweatshirt and throw him into the counter, slamming his head into it twice. After that his legs give out and he slumps to the floor with a moan of pain.
I feel a burst of glee and immediately crouch down to roll him onto his back. It's then that I realize he's a pretty old guy. Either way, he was in great shape for a guy his age. I slap his face, my bare feet planted out to either side of his body. Wake up!
I can see him starting to glare. I smirk, pretty positive that I had this guy down for good. Did those blows to the head make you forget what just happened? Your about to get the fucking beat down of your life you little shit.
Punch my belly, please
I'm not sure what came over me, but I chose that moment to show off my masculinity. I reach down with a hand and cup my nuts through my boxers for him, gesturing with my other hand to emphasize the impressive bulge I had just created.
It smacks in with a meaty thump and I feel his knuckles completely flatten both my balls. My sentence immediately cuts off and I hunch spasmodically, eyes bulging as I try to snap my legs together. Unfortunately for me they won't close due to the massive body that's blocking them and he takes the opportunity to smack in another punch that's a bit lighter but no less sickening. It was then that my leaning over lead to the masked man who was smirking gleefully at this point noticing something else.
Because of my position, my belly was pooching out a bit, hanging right over his face. He pauses, as if considering, then He sends a straight right up into my belly! My guts churned and I started to drool, the pain from both my crotch and my gut were nearly rendering me unconscious. I watch the burglar consider that punch, watching my stomach sort of bulge around his fist and he gets a nasty grin