BUTCH AMERICAN vs. RUSSIAN BEAR
Part 5 of 7
(The Raunchy Punch-Drunk Sequel to Dads and Sons Fathers’ Day Fight Wager)
(Note: For the PC minded, even though I have matched an American fighter against a Russian fighter, this story is not political. It’s a Dad vs. Son scenario with sharp tongue in bloody cheek and punishing elbows to damaged ribs.)
It suddenly occurred to Butch why he detested this Russian guy so much and it wasn’t because of his bullshit. In height, weight, overbearing manner and overwhelming physique he reminded Butch of his shitty, despicable, abusive father. Now he felt a flood of hatred towards his opponent. The feeling of hostility was so strong he suddenly aimed a loogie at Vlad, the wad of spit hitting him squarely in the face. Vlad looked momentarily shocked, decided to take it in stride and then spat his own wad back at Butch hitting his left pec. Butch’s spit hung over Vlad’s nose, cheek and chin. Vlad’s spit covered most of Butch’s left pec, particularly over his pink left nipple. Both men simultaneously scooped the spit with their hand, licking it with their tongues. Smiling savagely, the leftover spit they smeared in and around where it had landed.
Vlad moved in looking like he was intending to bump chests with Butch. Butch thinking this was the Russian’s equivalent of touching gloves before a fight, confidently expanded his own burly chest to meet the Russian’s. They did bump chests making a heavy splat sound, but instantly, Vlad threw his arms around Butch catching him in a punishing bear hug while also successively pinning one of Butch’s arms helplessly to his side.
Vlad hissed into Butch’s ear, “STUPID MISTAKE, AMERICAN. VERY STUPID. I BE TASTING YOUR POPSICLE AND FUCKING YOUR SWEET ROSY ASS VERY SOON. BUT FIRST I PLAY WITH YOU.”
Vlad proceeded to bounce Butch up and down like a ragdoll squeezing his back tighter and tighter. The pain was searing Butch’s spine. Butch lost no time swiftly extending his one free arm, his palm slamming Vlad’s temple as hard as he could over and over. He shoved Vlad’s head sidewise in an extremely unnatural position, severely straining his neck. Already the fighters were experiencing agonizing pain.
Butch began to beat the side of Vlad’s head repeatedly. Vlad retaliated by driving straight into one of the stalls crashing Butch’s upper back into the old wooden wall of the barn. The whole outer structure of the barn shook. Scurrying sounds from everywhere were heard. An enormous rat bolted across the floor of the barn exiting out the propped-open door and into the chilly night. Carla shrieked, RATS!! The truckers and Murray scattered around frantically looking for alternate viewing places. A resourceful trucker darted forward and adjusted the lamps allowing the fighters more visibility, while other truckers deliberately ignoring the surrounding chaos focused resolutely on aiming their devices at the explosive fight action.
Vlad tightened his grip and kept slamming Butch’s back against the ancient wood of the barn wall. Butch could feel splinters tearing into his back, ripping the flesh. His only recourse was to keep punching Vlad’s face, head and neck with his one free hand. Vlad’s right eye was already blackened. His temple was bleeding from a deep cut. Vlad suddenly released his crushing bear hug, grabbed Butch’s neck in a viselike grip with one hand, which kept Butch still pinned against the splintering barn wall and began pummeling his stomach with his free hard fist. Butch’s face, pushed flat against the wood, could feel additional splinters tearing at his cheek. Desperate, he tried to drive his knee into Vlad’s exposed nuts causing Vlad to leap backwards. Vlad lost his grip on Butch’s neck. Butch spun around widening the space between them allowing Butch to start throwing punches at Vlad. He pounded Vlad’s body mercilessly. Vlad found himself up against one side of the stall trying to fend off Butch’s blows to his face and body. Vlad successfully side-stepped one viciously aimed blow and followed through charging head-first into Butch’s belly causing them both to fall crashing to the ground.
They rolled around furiously in the stall’s muck, dirt and dank straw pummeling each other with everything they had. They rubbed each other’s faces in the filth. Enraged, they grabbed each other by the ears and started spewing gabs of spit directly into each other’s faces screaming obscenities. They then began deliberately trading punches to the face causing both fighters to reel backwards against opposite sides of the tight stall. Butch landed a hard kick to Vlad’s stomach above his groin area just barely missing Vlad’s swinging, still-hard cock. Another solid kick to Vlad’s big belly propelled Vlad out of the stall as if he had been shot out of a cannon landing him on the other side of the barn. Again, the whole outer structure shook causing more scurrying sounds from all directions. As Butch came charging out of the stall to clash with Vlad again, a pair of rats ran directly in front of him and into the next stall. Carla shrieked. The rats, plus Carla’s scream, threw Butch off balance. He managed to prevent falling face first on the ground. Because of this, Vlad was able to side-step Butch’s attempt to take his turn pinning Vlad’s back against the barn’s splintered wood. Butch yelled, “GODAMN FUCK!”
There was a momentary pause as the fighters recovered their breath. Their now blackened bodies were covered in muck, likewise their faces. Butch’s back was bleeding from multiple splinter cuts. His left cheek was also bleeding. In addition to Vlad’s black eye and bleeding temple, his thigh had a deep cut, and he had another cut on his forearm. One thing was certain. Unlike the spectators, neither fighter was cold. Their overheated bodies were drenched with sweat. It looked like steam was coming off them. Inhaling the rancid odor of the barn was another matter though and beginning to take its toll on the fighters.
But both still showed plenty of fight left. In fact, they were relishing this wild combat. Likewise, their still-excited cocks stiffly swung back and forth as they faced each other more defiant than ever. Both men stole a quick moment to wipe their faces of grime and gobs of spit with the backs of their hands. But as their hands were thoroughly blackened this only increased the amount of muck on their faces. Neither man minded.
Butch yelled to the onlookers. “YOU RECORDING ALL THIS?”
Two of the most determined of the truckers called back, their devices aimed ever-resolutely, “EVERY GODDAMN SECOND. DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT THAT! DAMN, WHAT A FIGHT!!”
Butch and Vlad flashed sadistic smiles. In contrast to their filthy faces, their white teeth made them look like wild beasts snarling at each other. Break over, they simultaneously advanced on each other again, fists raised threateningly, anxious to do more damage.
tuffchap (1)
13/4/2021 20:45BUTCH AMERICAN vs. RUSSIAN BEAR
Part 5 of 7
(The Raunchy Punch-Drunk Sequel to Dads and Sons Fathers’ Day Fight Wager)
(Note: For the PC minded, even though I have matched an American fighter against a Russian fighter, this story is not political. It’s a Dad vs. Son scenario with sharp tongue in bloody cheek and punishing elbows to damaged ribs.)
It suddenly occurred to Butch why he detested this Russian guy so much and it wasn’t because of his bullshit. In height, weight, overbearing manner and overwhelming physique he reminded Butch of his shitty, despicable, abusive father. Now he felt a flood of hatred towards his opponent. The feeling of hostility was so strong he suddenly aimed a loogie at Vlad, the wad of spit hitting him squarely in the face. Vlad looked momentarily shocked, decided to take it in stride and then spat his own wad back at Butch hitting his left pec. Butch’s spit hung over Vlad’s nose, cheek and chin. Vlad’s spit covered most of Butch’s left pec, particularly over his pink left nipple. Both men simultaneously scooped the spit with their hand, licking it with their tongues. Smiling savagely, the leftover spit they smeared in and around where it had landed.
Vlad moved in looking like he was intending to bump chests with Butch. Butch thinking this was the Russian’s equivalent of touching gloves before a fight, confidently expanded his own burly chest to meet the Russian’s. They did bump chests making a heavy splat sound, but instantly, Vlad threw his arms around Butch catching him in a punishing bear hug while also successively pinning one of Butch’s arms helplessly to his side.
Vlad hissed into Butch’s ear, “STUPID MISTAKE, AMERICAN. VERY STUPID. I BE TASTING YOUR POPSICLE AND FUCKING YOUR SWEET ROSY ASS VERY SOON. BUT FIRST I PLAY WITH YOU.”
Vlad proceeded to bounce Butch up and down like a ragdoll squeezing his back tighter and tighter. The pain was searing Butch’s spine. Butch lost no time swiftly extending his one free arm, his palm slamming Vlad’s temple as hard as he could over and over. He shoved Vlad’s head sidewise in an extremely unnatural position, severely straining his neck. Already the fighters were experiencing agonizing pain.
Butch began to beat the side of Vlad’s head repeatedly. Vlad retaliated by driving straight into one of the stalls crashing Butch’s upper back into the old wooden wall of the barn. The whole outer structure of the barn shook. Scurrying sounds from everywhere were heard. An enormous rat bolted across the floor of the barn exiting out the propped-open door and into the chilly night. Carla shrieked, RATS!! The truckers and Murray scattered around frantically looking for alternate viewing places. A resourceful trucker darted forward and adjusted the lamps allowing the fighters more visibility, while other truckers deliberately ignoring the surrounding chaos focused resolutely on aiming their devices at the explosive fight action.
Vlad tightened his grip and kept slamming Butch’s back against the ancient wood of the barn wall. Butch could feel splinters tearing into his back, ripping the flesh. His only recourse was to keep punching Vlad’s face, head and neck with his one free hand. Vlad’s right eye was already blackened. His temple was bleeding from a deep cut. Vlad suddenly released his crushing bear hug, grabbed Butch’s neck in a viselike grip with one hand, which kept Butch still pinned against the splintering barn wall and began pummeling his stomach with his free hard fist. Butch’s face, pushed flat against the wood, could feel additional splinters tearing at his cheek. Desperate, he tried to drive his knee into Vlad’s exposed nuts causing Vlad to leap backwards. Vlad lost his grip on Butch’s neck. Butch spun around widening the space between them allowing Butch to start throwing punches at Vlad. He pounded Vlad’s body mercilessly. Vlad found himself up against one side of the stall trying to fend off Butch’s blows to his face and body. Vlad successfully side-stepped one viciously aimed blow and followed through charging head-first into Butch’s belly causing them both to fall crashing to the ground.
They rolled around furiously in the stall’s muck, dirt and dank straw pummeling each other with everything they had. They rubbed each other’s faces in the filth. Enraged, they grabbed each other by the ears and started spewing gabs of spit directly into each other’s faces screaming obscenities. They then began deliberately trading punches to the face causing both fighters to reel backwards against opposite sides of the tight stall. Butch landed a hard kick to Vlad’s stomach above his groin area just barely missing Vlad’s swinging, still-hard cock. Another solid kick to Vlad’s big belly propelled Vlad out of the stall as if he had been shot out of a cannon landing him on the other side of the barn. Again, the whole outer structure shook causing more scurrying sounds from all directions. As Butch came charging out of the stall to clash with Vlad again, a pair of rats ran directly in front of him and into the next stall. Carla shrieked. The rats, plus Carla’s scream, threw Butch off balance. He managed to prevent falling face first on the ground. Because of this, Vlad was able to side-step Butch’s attempt to take his turn pinning Vlad’s back against the barn’s splintered wood. Butch yelled, “GODAMN FUCK!”
There was a momentary pause as the fighters recovered their breath. Their now blackened bodies were covered in muck, likewise their faces. Butch’s back was bleeding from multiple splinter cuts. His left cheek was also bleeding. In addition to Vlad’s black eye and bleeding temple, his thigh had a deep cut, and he had another cut on his forearm. One thing was certain. Unlike the spectators, neither fighter was cold. Their overheated bodies were drenched with sweat. It looked like steam was coming off them. Inhaling the rancid odor of the barn was another matter though and beginning to take its toll on the fighters.
But both still showed plenty of fight left. In fact, they were relishing this wild combat. Likewise, their still-excited cocks stiffly swung back and forth as they faced each other more defiant than ever. Both men stole a quick moment to wipe their faces of grime and gobs of spit with the backs of their hands. But as their hands were thoroughly blackened this only increased the amount of muck on their faces. Neither man minded.
Butch yelled to the onlookers. “YOU RECORDING ALL THIS?”
Two of the most determined of the truckers called back, their devices aimed ever-resolutely, “EVERY GODDAMN SECOND. DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT THAT! DAMN, WHAT A FIGHT!!”
Butch and Vlad flashed sadistic smiles. In contrast to their filthy faces, their white teeth made them look like wild beasts snarling at each other. Break over, they simultaneously advanced on each other again, fists raised threateningly, anxious to do more damage.