Discoveries of a Young Man - Part 10 (Patreon)

I know it has been a while, but here it is. A bit longer than the other parts, but oh well. I hope you enjoy, and happy reading.

*

After a week’s break, it was straight back into a short five-week camp for another fight at the end of March. I’d have more time for my next fights after this one, but for now, the fights came fast to build my immediate reputation. I didn’t take too much damage in the first so I didn’t think it would be a problem. Jogging in the remaining snow, boxing, working on the things Freya thought were my weaknesses, sharpening my strengths, constructing a strategy.

But it wasn’t too bad. It was almost like jogging in the morning and seeing them become brighter and brighter became a symbol of how we were in full motion toward the next chapter of our lives. Spring came with its richness, the smells and sounds of the warmer time to come acted as a metaphor for where Mel, Hope, and I were going.

Another perk of jogging in the winter, coming home soaking wet with melting snow and sweat all over me, was the showers that at times could become quite… hot and steamy. Very steamy. I would have a long day of sloshy joggings and sparring, which then would land me in the shower and my two naked beauties on their knees in front of me. Mel, with her big teardrop breasts, slender frame, and well-set ass, and of course Hope, also with a set of full tits, but with a much more petite, albeit increasingly muscled physique.

Some might expect the double blow job from my two girlfriends to be a one-time thing or something saved for some special occasion, but Mel and Hope were both full of surprises, as they both would often join me in the shower. Helping me soap up, paying extra attention to certain areas.

“Every time we can show you how much we love you, and how fun this can be, is a special occasion,” Mel had said, before eagerly dragging my sweaty t-shirt off me, Hope shortly shoving a beer into my hand(my last for weeks).

I had never thought to try it, but a cold beer and warm mouths appreciating me thoroughly was certainly one of the better ways to take a shower. Mel certainly had been pent up from the short while we weren’t together during the last camp. We had made love, fucked, and all that during my fight camp, but with much less frequency than we were used to. And Mel had been making up for it in the time after.

And Hope was just game for the ride when it came to the showers. She was ever the more cuddly type. Her perfect night seemed to fall asleep in my arms on the couch for then for me to carry her up to bed, and soundly tuck her in.

So here we were.

Mel focused on sucking on my head while Hope nuzzled into my balls, tickling me gently with her diligent tongue. They weren’t shy about where one collided anymore, creating some beautiful, and hungry, tongue exchanges. It honestly didn’t take long before their efforts became too much for me. Mel surprised us all by taking my cock and jerking it onto her cute daughter's freckled face. It sent shivers through me as I realized what she wanted, and soon I blasted all over Hope’s cute little freckled face. She just smiled up at me encouragingly as thick creamy goo exploded across her face, creating such an erotic sight for me that it felt like I was cumming twice.

“Come on, Bran, cum on my face,” she moaned, licking her lips to catch some of it.

Then Mel helped her clean her face. I had had my face licked by her before, but seeing my hot mature girlfriend lick cute Hope’s freckles clean from my cum made me throb once more. They kissed each other deliciously, pushing my cum back and forth and swallowing. Hope softly caressed her mother’s big breasts while Mel had a hand resting on Hope’s tight ass. And just like that I was raging hard again.

After I had been drained for the first time of the day, Mel dragged me to the bed, while Hope more or less skipped happily down to work in the garage. Mel shoved me on my back and promptly sat on my face, nose lodged into her magnificent ass, barely able to breathe. I held onto her silk-smooth thighs and shoved her down, savoring Mel’s softest, most precious parts. I closed my eyes and ate her as deeply as I knew she liked it. As I wanted it. I just loved being between her thighs, with my head or otherwise. Hard and firm, I circled my tongue into her as I felt her tense up on top of me, and soon after gushed all over as she came in my mouth. I lapped it eagerly before Mel stood up, flipped 180, and sat on my cock, bouncing eagerly on me until I erupted for a second time this morning.

*

“So I was thinking,” Josh grunted as I hooked his abdomen.

Who is Josh? One of the early days of camp he appeared in the gym with a proposal, which he broached to me over sparring. He was a former amateur boxer himself, having tried for the Olympics but then the pandemic messed things up. He was tall, at least six foot six or more, and while he was shredded like nobody’s business, he was still a pure heavyweight. So my shots did nothing to him.

Yet, he wanted to spar and talk to me.

Freya had just shrugged and let me get pummeled. But Josh was nice and took it easy on me. It was sparring, after all, so learning was more the focus anyway. Him being this tall, fast, and heavy forced me to move as much as possible to avoid him. Even if he caught me by accident I’d get hurt.

“Good one,” Josh said, but I knew he was barely paying attention to the shot. He shoved me back with ease, so I almost stumbled. “You duck good, but sometimes try to throw a jab to block my right, right? Like this.”

Josh jabbed and threw his right cross. I jabbed too, blocking his right. It hurt like a bastard when his heavier arm collided with the outside of my upper arm, but I ducked under and ripped into his ribs, then a stiff rear uppercut to his chin which he ducked away from with surprising speed.

“Just like that,” Josh grunted, rubbing his side. “But instead of the uppercut, if you pivot and throw a right hook to the solar plexus. After that, it’s free real estate. So anyway, I was thinking. I know Andrè, and I sorta heard you’re fighting and doing your thing, right? And if James and those folks can be believed, some big things are happening, right?”

I nodded, mouthguard and heavy breath making it tedious to talk. I wasn’t sure what Josh knew, but I’d let him talk. And I didn’t really know what was public knowledge anyhow.

“So here’s the deal. I want to sponsor your wardrobe,” Josh said, smiling encouragingly. “Yeah? I have an offer on paper but we’re both men of the ring, right, so here’s the deal; a hundred thousand upfront if you let us make your trunks, robe, and decorate your gloves for your next five fights.”

“What?” I asked. I was too tired to think.

“Enough talk! Hope, you got that?” Freya yelled but turned to Hope who had been paying attention to the offer.

“Yeah, talk to my manager, I don’t know,” I said nodding at Hope. Josh just smiled and nodded.

“I like how you handle your business, Bran. Kim, the wife,” Josh said, taking his stance again, “she’ll talk to your people and we’ll settle it. Later.”

Not only did I get a sponsorship, but Kim and Josh seemed to be loaded, but in need of steady cash flow. So they even bought a good 20 percent of Hope’s Branded Cars, our small fix-and-sell business, as silent partners. Now it could become Hope’s full-time job, as the influx of cash let her some leeway to get things going, get more cars to fix and sell, and whatnot! It was as if everything went our way these days.

The new influx of money, the purse from the previous fight, and my signing bonus allowed us to finally purchase one of the properties we had gawked at, and still also be able to pay the rent on our current house. We didn’t get the one with the small creek, but rather across the road instead. It was just as good in my opinion, as it overlooked the small town. A few acres of open land, and a small “hill” on the far side of the property.

Trent’s dad even started some of the building to get things rolling. The idea of building something that was ours entirely, from the money we earned, to deciding how it was laid out, was something we initially thought was a pipe dream, but with everything going our way our dreams came to fruition. We were getting ourselves a home!

“Why do we need so many guest bedrooms?” I asked.

It was evening and Mel and I sat on a bench we had put up on the grounds of our newly bought thirty-acre lot. It had a small hill facing away from the house and the street lights, which gave yet another amazing elevated view. From our windows we’d see most of Courtintion, up there we would be able to see the stars. But the bench was facing the skeleton of what would become our abode.

“Well, we need one for us, one for Maia when she visits (Maia was applying to out-of-state colleges), Freya gets a room, and–” Mel started.

“Wait, Freya gets her own room too?” I asked slightly surprised.

“Yeah. When you have camp I thought she could stay over as much as she wanted. If needed. And then she doesn't have to drive so much,” Mel said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think she’d mind sleeping over either. I remember a certain someone who slept over twice, and now look where he is.”

Mel nudged at me, ending with a dirty smile. I just shook my head. It made sense though. Even now Freya had to drive over to our place, and when we moved, our new home was even further away. If she was cool with it, of course, my house would always be open to my friends.

“And I’m putting an extra large bedroom for us,” Mel said.

“Really now?” I asked in mock suspicion. What other deviousness had Mel cooked up?

“Of course. Three people need a big bed and an even larger room,” Mel teased.

“Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I said, turning towards her.

“I don’t know, what do you think I’m saying?” Mel didn’t relent.

“I think you’re thinking something cozy and innocent,” I said, playing her game. Mel just smirked at that. It could be that too. Waking up under the warm circumference of Mel and Hope, inching myself further beneath one of them while clutching the other a little bit tighter was the best of mornings.

We hadn’t yet moved that extra step of Hope permanently sleeping in our bed, though she had fallen asleep and thus slept over a few times. This would certainly be a new step for the three of us. A permanent step, you could say.

“I think it can be that too,” Mel answered, taking my hand as we looked upon the silhouetted structure of what would become our home.

*

The next fight wasn’t really anything of note. The same venue, same crowd more or less. The guy had an abysmal record of four victories and ten losses. Though, one of those victories was in the last five fights. Didn’t matter, in the fourth and final round, he didn’t get back up after I had worked his body continuously for the three prior rounds, before a hard liver shot that sent him crumbling.

That night I was too exhausted to celebrate. Going almost the full distance and taking some punishment during, after a brutal camp, I was beaten. I think my right eye was slightly swollen too as the guy had a decent jab. Even if my mind wanted to, my body was almost fully asleep by the time we arrived home from Indianapolis. Hope and Maia shook me awake, and I stumbled upstairs. I was dead to the world the moment my head hit the pillow.

For the next fight, at the end of April, giving me a full two weeks of rest before the next fight camp again, we were apparently traveling out of state. I had barely seen our big beautiful country aside from back home, Seattle, Indiana, and a few other places. And this time we were going to Florida! To elevate my name, apparently, James and the folks had signed me up for some Influencer Boxing stuff. It would be an easy fight, but it would serve two purposes. First, it would give me another impressive-looking knockout. Two, it gave my name some more recognition, justifying the upcoming bigger paydays.

“And you know there are already some edits of your two fights on TikTok because of that influencer thing,” Hope said, as I had just complained about fighting a guy who wasn’t a real fighter. “They’re even making all these ‘the guy she told you not to worry about’ memes about you.”

“What? How?” I asked.

All that social media stuff was something I was kinda into before when I was in my gray non-existent lifestyle, but ever since I met Mel none of that sorta stuff mattered at all. Life online doesn’t mean shit when you have a whole lotta real things that occupied your time. “They say I’m not something to worry about, or that I am?”

“Ugh, never mind,” Hope exclaimed. “They think you’ll knock the shit out of this guy, basically.”

“Well, I am,” I joked, though that was pretty much always the game plan. “But how about we forget about that for a minute?” I said, pulling her giggling little body into me on the sofa.

It had been a long day, and I wasn’t too keen on flying. I was starting to think I might have a phobia or something. Or maybe because it was Tampa, Florida. I heard they had roosters in the streets down there. That’s crazy.

“Do you think we can move in before summer?” Hope asked, resting her head on my chest.

“I hope so. It’s getting along pretty well. Would be awesome,” I said.

“I can’t wait to sunbathe,” Hope said.

“You?” I asked, dumbfounded, deciding to tease her a bit. “As pale as you are?”

“Well, if we’re gonna have a pool, I better at least try it, right?” Hope joked. She was as pale as any goth girl, despite her increasingly sunny disposition, and never seemed like a girl who’d work on her tan.

“You should practice,” I said. “Lay back in your best sunbathing position. We’re going to Tampa in a few weeks!”

“Please show me, Daddy,” Hope teased, knowing I wasn’t a fan of that ‘daddy’ stuff.

I moved her out of my lap and back on the sofa, moving myself to sit on the floor beside her. I nodded for her to get into her best position to sunbathe. It was silly, yes, but I wanted to admire my girlfriend in a sexy pose. Hope moved her arms above her head and stretched out with a groan, settling on her side and looking at me in a sideways position, her left leg delicately draped across her right, her hand coming down to trace the outside of her thigh. Her dark skirt fell nicely across her thighs, riding up a bit so I could almost see parts of her shapely ass, and her loose red and black wool sweater showed plenty of cleavage.

“I’d sunbathe something like this,” Hope said, trying to sound relaxed. I shook my head.

“No good,” I said. Hope gawked me in fake indignation. “You’ll get a weird tan on your side like that. You need to lay more like this.”

I grabbed her knees and easily spun her around so her back was against the back of the sofa, and her knees resting on my shoulders, Hope’s soft calves down my back. I wish I had my shirt off, as her skin was so smooth and warm I wanted to feel it scolding hot against me as I settled between her splayed legs.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Hope said, “Because this mimics a pool lounger.”

“You see?” I said nonchalantly. “You’ll get a nice even color like this.”

My eyes then trailed to where her skirt hid her stocking-clad crotch. “Though, this skirt might be in the way,” I said, clutching my hands around her thighs and hoisting us both up until I was standing with Hope on my shoulders, her legs still wrapped around my neck, clutching my head for support.

“OOOOUH,” Hope shrieked as I lifted her up. “I think you’re right. But honey, you’ve been working so hard. Boxing and showing me how to sunbathe. Why don’t you bring me over to the kitchen so we can get you a cookie or something?”

I had to stifle my laughter. Hope was flawless in her casual innuendo lingo. But her word was my command, so I marched us into the kitchen and lowered her to the floor again. Hope dutifully turned around and bent toward the kitchen counter, and I in turn got down on my knees behind her. There were two places in the world I loved the most to shove my face in, between Hope’s thighs, and Mel’s. I lowered her gray cotton stockings, and shoved my face into the cleft of her ass, disappearing up into the crimson darkness of her skirt.

Oh what heaven, as I slid her black thong aside and shoved my tongue into her pussy. I heard her gasp and felt her tense up and immediately relax, as I started to suck into her with all I had, slipping my tongue into her velvet canal, my nose shoving at her butthole. I knew she loved it that way, being awfully sensitive around her ass. To heighten the sensation, I brought my hands up to her cheeks and gently tickled her with my nails, making her gasp even louder, as goosebumps appeared across her cheeks, giving Hope’s skin a sexy texture I dragged my tongue across before sucking into her flesh and no doubt giving her cheek a viscous hickey.

“You like it down there?” Hope muttered. I didn’t reply, I just vigorously sucked into her.

Fuck, her ass was so good. It had filled out quite a lot from working out, but somehow she was still petite. I sucked down on her other cheek with all I had, no doubt giving her another hickey. I’d eat her whole cheek if I was able, I was so hungry for it. I released her soft skin from my lips and made my way back to her ‘cookie’ only this time entering higher up, eating her ass instead. It didn’t take many strokes with my tongue before I brought her to an orgasm, her hips bucking against me as she trembled. I quickly dipped down to her pussy and ate her out more, wanting every drop of her sweet juices, knowing it would drive her even more nuts after having her ass eaten.

“Fuck, Bran,” she whimpered under my relentless assault. “You better get up here and fuck the shit out of me before I fall over.”

I quickly stood up, yanked my boxers down, and shoved myself into her, making us both let out satisfied moans. Hope turned slightly at her waist and gave me a dreamy smile as I slowly sawed my cock inside of her warm embrace. She was so tight and warm it was like dipping myself into a hot, wet, and yet ferociously gripping glove. Having been pent up from eating her out, I was already throbbing, but I was able to coax yet another orgasm out of her before I poured myself inside of her. Hope locked her lips with mine as we came together, humming satisfyingly as she felt the pressure of my orgasm fill her up.

“I can’t wait until we get to Tampa if that’s what sunbathing is like,” she moaned into my lips between kisses.

*

Someone who could absolutely wait for Tampa was me. Despite all the obvious perks of traveling to such a sun-stricken place, I was traveling sick, to say the least. I had no desire to go. My entire support system, and why I even did any of this, was Mel and Hope. And now I was packing up my bags to fly 3-4 hours away and stay there for two weeks without them. The fight being in Tampa, meant that I had to travel down there at least two weeks prior to have my camp down there for acclimation. So here I was, packing.

“I just think when we see each other it will be so much better,” Hope said, sitting on the bed as I threw some shorts and some toiletries into my suitcase.

Mel was at work, so it fell on Hope to see me off before Freya picked me up. I had held Mel so hard and for so long before she left I had almost made her late for work, knowing it was the last time I saw her in a while. Mel had stroked my back, kissed my hair and my cheek, as she consoled me, telling me everything was gonna be okay.

And now I guess it was Hope’s turn. She gazed down into the suitcase and arched an eyebrow at what she saw.

“Is that one of mom’s fleece sweaters?” she asked, lifting up a thick green fleece sweater. Normally she would be teasing, but she chose a softer tone.

“Yeah,” I muttered. It was way too thick to wear down in Florida, but Mel’s fleece sweaters always captured her scent the best.

Hope jumped off her bed and quickly seized me into a tight hug. “You’re cute,” she whispered, resting her head on my chest. She released me, and looked up into me, before pulling into a soft kiss. “Wait here, soldier,” she said, hurrying out of the room.

I still had a few more t-shirts to pack, and by the time they were in the suitcase, Hope was back, holding one of her own sweaters.

“Here, so you have from us both,” she said, smiling.

“I meant to get one, I just–” I said, but Hope interrupted me.

“I know. Here,” she said, handing me the black wool sweater. Freshly dozed with one of her perfumes. I took it to my nose and inhaled deeply, before carefully folding it next to Mel’s.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna survive two full weeks,” I said, yet another heavy sigh, Hope’s scent still in my nostrils and in my lungs. I could taste it.

“You did fine during Christmas,” Hope explained.

“I know, but the more time I spend with you guys, the more I grow attached. I don’t wanna go anywhere. I just wanna stay at home and be with you guys,” I replied.

“You know, it’s gonna suck for us too. You being gone. I’ve never had a boyfriend before, and Mom has never been so affectionate with… y’know. Not even close. So much has changed… Mom and I have never been as close as we are now. Something about dating the same guy as her has brought us closer,” Hope explained, sitting down on the bed once again.

“Yeah?” I said, zipping up the suitcase. “You’ve been talking about me?” I said jokingly.

“You bet,” Hope teased. “Sharing notes. But truly. We’re gonna miss you as much as you think you’re gonna miss us. Which is why I think that when we meet, it will just be so much more wonderful.”

That’s when we heard our front door open and shut, signaling Freya’s arrival. Hope followed me down, greeted Freya, and with a farewell kiss, I left for Florida.

*

Something that also sucked about my fight being in April, and it being in Tampa, was that my birthday was the very next day after the fight, on Sunday. Which meant I had to spend it on the road. I would be 22, so not a big number or anything, but it would be the first I’d spend with Mel and Hope, and as the new man I had grown into. I initially hoped to celebrate with beer and watch a movie marathon. I wanted John Wick, but Hope seemed to want to rewatch the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Extended edition, of course. But those plans were shattered as the date of the fight was announced.

The fight being out of state and spending two weeks away meant a whole lot of new stress. Not only would I not see my family for a while, as they both still had work and their own obligations, but also that meant renting rooms for Freya and me, and it meant partnering up with some gym down there for those weeks. A whole bunch of new expenses. We could afford it, and sort of as my de facto manager did, Hope made the arrangements, but it was an extra stress-factor regardless.

“You just need to channel all that into the fight. Being away from Mel and Hope for those weeks? You’ll make this dude pay for that,” Freya said, sitting next to me on the plane. It was the earliest flight on Saturday morning, two weeks from the fight by now. “It’s his fault you’re down here, and you’ll let him know!”

Frank would join me later. I had gotten a new masseuse, Maria, but to save some expenses Freya had volunteered, in these housebuilding times, as we once again would share a room anyway. I couldn’t help but wonder where that came from, but honestly, I didn’t mind. As much as we both knew why, it was indeed one less person to pay for, in addition to it being a very normal thing in all fighting camps.

“It’s weird going down there and it's not for a vacation,” I mused. “And my birthday is kinda falling to the side. Not that it matters or anything, but ya know, I hoped to actually celebrate it for once.”

“You could just stay down there a few days?” Freya suggested. “I don’t know. I hate Florida, so I’m heading up as soon as possible. I booked a flight on Saturday night already. I think Hope booked yours too, but I don’t know if it’s the same.”

“Probably not for Saturday night. I have to stay throughout the event. And then there is drug testing. I’ll be fucking toast after that. Yay for me,” I said sarcastically.

I had considered staying though, as it was indeed the Sunshine State. But I honestly wanted back too, as my loved ones had work on the following Monday. Otherwise, I’d probably take them for a small vacation, but with the new house being built, me not working as much as an accountant due to the training camp, and rent of course, we had to be careful.

“At least we’re here in early April, instead of July,” Freya muttered, looking out the window.

The heat in Florida was overbearing regardless. Or rather, or in addition, the moisture. I was sweating my balls off before we left the airport, and as we got into the high-rise hotel room I wanted nothing but to leave this heat and thick, wet air. Breathing was even harder. It was so different from April in Indiana. I couldn’t imagine fighting under these conditions, let alone training. Thank god I had two weeks to acclimate, even if it would be torture. Though, I was starting to think it was too little time.

Within a few minutes of my first training session down here, which was a lighter workout due to the new climate, my gloves felt like they were falling off from being so slippery with my sweat. Clenching a fist for each punch was gruesome. If I hadn’t had them taped to my fist, I'd have thrown them away by accident a long time ago. Still, Freya was undeterred, making me throw up for the first time in months.

“Jesus, how is it so fucking hot,” I groaned that evening. We had just eaten a light dinner, premade and prepared under the guidance of Andrè. Chicken, broccoli, and rice. Freya was a true trooper for sticking to the same regiment even when she didn’t have to.

We had gotten a two-bed apartment-esc hotel room. It was a bit larger than the motel rooms we were used to back when we traveled before, but it would be kinda tight living here for the next two weeks. We had two beds, a fridge, a two-seater and a chair, and a small office space, and that was honestly it. But it was closer to the venue, and also had a decent view, so I figured it was worth it.

“Yeah, I can’t wait to get out of these clothes and a nice cold shower,” Freya groaned, sitting on the small sofa opposite of me. “Remind me to get brighter clothes after the jog tomorrow. I only packed black like a dumbass.”

“At least you don’t get sweat stains,” I said, gesturing to the gray marks on my previously white t-shirt. “Well, you can go first. I need to call back home anyway.”

Freya nodded, and while I expected her to get ready for her shower in the bathroom, I still went out on the decently spacious balcony. Even in the evening, it was warm, though overviewing Tampa at night it was actually kind of pretty. The city lights. I guess we would get some of those once we got to our new home on the hills. Courtington Terrace, they called it. Moving up in the world.

“How’s Florida?” Mel asked, picking up on the second beep.

“Warm as shit!” I chuckled. “Man, I can’t wait to see you guys again.”

“Oooh, you’re missing me? Already after just a small flight away?” Mel asked. I nodded, though she couldn’t see that. “I think you’ll manage. Or should I be worried you’re down there in sunny Florida with your hot Latina coach? Who’s working you so hard?”

“Come on now. All I want is you two. After these two weeks, I can’t wait to–”

“Fuck the shit out of us?” Mel moaned. I closed my eyes as her sexy voice tickled my ears, her words having the desired teasing effect on me. “I can’t wait.”

“Ugh, don’t tease me like that,” I groaned. “It’ll be hell. Two weeks? I haven’t been that long away from you before.”

“Down in sunny Florida, lightly clothed women all around. How ever will my dear Bran ever stay faithful? Sexy body, handsome, and with a big dick,” Mel teased. “I think you might have to take some of your frustration out on that coach of yours.”

“Come on now, enough of that,” I said, my turn to stifle a chuckle. I looked inside from the balcony. Freya was watching some stuff on the TV, waiting to give me my first of many daily massages.

“What, don’t remember those policewomen you banged?” Mel asked.

“This is different. Freya is a friend,” I said. “Besides, I don’t want anyone else but you and Hope. It was weird with those two girls. And I feel it’s kinda messed up to lead Freya on and stuff.”

“That’s sweet,” Mel said earnestly. “And I’m only teasing. We all love Freya and it’s wrong to lead her on like you said, or even suggest it. Sorry for that, I know how it is down there for you.”

“It’s okay. I like being teased, but y’know, with everything it can get a bit much,” I said.

“You’re not the only one pent up. You’ll have a hard Sunday in two weeks, let me tell you,” Mel said with an exasperated sigh. “Maybe there will be something special, even.”

“Special?” I asked.

“I’ve said too much,” Mel whispered sensually.

“Please don’t tempt me, or I’m catching the first flight up to Indiana,” I chuckled in reply.

“If it helps, if you need any stress relief… I won’t mind if you get a full body massage and with a happy–” Mel began, but didn’t finish. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

We hung up shortly after that, chatting about how fucking warm it was. It had been brutal today, and so moist. The light workout we did was even more tedious than it was intended to, as the temperature was almost unlivable. We also chatted more about our home. It was hard to believe a new home was being erected for us as we spoke. A home. Our home. Pool, sauna, lawn, my two hot girlfriends. One of them is my soon-to-be wife. What a life.

“You ready?” Freya asked as I stepped into the room again. She sat with her hair tied up in a towel turban, fresh out of the shower, with a bathrobe wrapped around her.

“I just need a shower,” I said. “All sweaty and shit.”

“You’ll get dirty from the oil,” Freya said, raising an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just talked with Mel and she likes to tease me and stuff… so, ugh, yeah,” I said. “Right.”

I wasn’t sure how it would go. I mean, I had professional massages from Maria, and I had them from Mel, of course, which were both professionally done, but also not at all. Freya and I had a weird relationship. Mel and Hope teased me about her, and hell I joined in too sometimes, Freya as well. We all knew it. But she was my tough-nosed, backbreaking coach. She was my surrogate parent during camp, and we’d grown quite close as she was my mentor and I was her student. In many ways, she had evolved into one of my best friends. We knew each other quite well by now.

I wasn’t sure if I read the signs wrong, but I could tell Freya sometimes wished she wasn’t in the friend zone, the sensei zone, or whatever. I had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, she was very pretty in a fierce kind of way. Muscular, strong both in body and soul. Extremely attractive. So it was flattering. Very. And I’m sure we could have a great time together. But it also felt kinda awful knowing it was something that could never be, and I was sure if she had feelings like that, she felt pain as well. So far we just kept it status quo, and honestly, perhaps that was for the best.

“Is that the guy I’m fighting?” I nodded at the TV. I hadn’t bothered looking him up, but I knew he made cooking videos or something.

Freya looked over at me, and for one instance I thought her eyes trailed my body. I only had my shorts on, so my body was on display, toned, and chiseled from all the training. I wasn’t flaunting, but I couldn’t really get a massage with my shirt on. But I was making shit up, Freya had seen my body thousands of times before, and in all kinds of shiny sweat too.

“Yeah, I was watching his only other two fights again. I’ve seen them a few times. But then I saw he had a video about cooking birria so I kinda started watching that instead,” Freya said. “Honestly, this guy isn’t anything to worry about. His Philly shell is fucking dogshit. You’ll break his ribs all day.”

“Sure,” I said, walking over to the bed. Should I just lay down? I wasn’t sure. She seemed preoccupied with the video, but I kinda wanted to shower and sleep as soon as possible, despite the warmth.

But Freya scooted away from the middle of her own bed, and tapped the cover, looking at me with those stern brown eyes of hers. Coach Freya in full effect. Probably for the best, especially if she decided on doing my thighs as well. I mean, I had half a mind to let her off the hook with my legs anyway. So I laid down and waited, deciding to play quiet and sleepy. Honestly, I was pretty tired. Flying, running, and then a two-hour boxing workout? I was worn out.

Which is why I needed this massage. Recovery was almost as important as the training itself. You were no good with swollen hands and sore muscles.

I heard Freya shuffle a bit, a cap snapping, and then cold oil collided with my back. Once upon a time, I’d wince, but I was so used to it by now. Besides, it was self-warming so it would soon be over anyway. Freya drew a line with oil from one shoulder blade down to my tailbone, across, and up my other shoulder blade.

“That’s cold,” I groaned.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Freya said, making me chuckle a bit. Good ole Freya.

Then a warm pressure sunk into my back, near my spine, as Freya’s fingers dug into my aching muscles. I couldn’t help but gasp. Fuck she was strong, and she wasn’t holding back. She pressed her fingers out to my sides until her palm collided with my back, then used those palms to push up towards my neck, her thumbs guiding the way and shoving my muscles out of the way. It was as if electricity were shooting through my muscles. It was like this every time, but Freya being a grappler meant she had insane grip strength. Each time Freya pressed her thumbs into my shoulders and neck the pain dissipated. The discomfort was erased and replaced by heavenly pleasure.

“You’re pretty good at this,” I complimented.

Freya didn’t respond, instead, she moved up the bed, near my face, so she could press her fingers and palms down my back in a downward trajectory, making her way down until her thumbs hit my tailbone. I always had a sweet spot for getting that area massaged, so I couldn’t help but let out a small moan in pleasure. My lower back tended to bitch up on me, so anytime some of that loosened up was much welcomed. Freya dragged back up before descending, this time I felt her right thigh bump against my head a bit. And as she descended, her finger grazed the waistband of my shorts.

“Sorry,” Freya muttered, her voice a tad lower than usual.

“It’s okay. The oil is slippery,” I said, not wanting to put her in an awkward position. Me neither, as I hoped to God I wouldn’t have to reject her. I was a loyal boyfriend, even if I had two girlfriends, and both of them had shared me with some raunchy police officers once upon a time.

But Freya maintained professionalism as she did my back. For the next fifteen minutes, I felt drowsy and sleepy. Not only from the workout but also from the comfort of being pummeled in the most pleasing way. I guess the comfort level from the touch of a woman did me in. While I longed for my girls’s thighs, I also missed their sweetness and feminine nature around me. Freya sort of gave me that, despite whatever my brain told me. The soft smells of a woman, the female touch, something not to be underestimated.

“You can flip over now,” Freya said.

I had sorta anticipated this moment. I wasn’t hard or anything, but massages always did its work on me, and a bulge certainly was protruding. Maria always used thick towels so nothing would show, and she didn’t have any thoughts of me as anything but a client.

How would we ever get through two weeks of this?

That being said, maybe it was all in my head. Freya had caught herself immediately earlier, and it was honestly me and my bulge who were keeping things unprofessional here. I needed to just shove those thoughts away. Yes. That was it. I was just missing Mel and Hope, that was all.

“You okay?” Freya asked as I rolled over. I must’ve zoned out, not moving my hands from my front.

I looked at her briefly. I could see her pert cleavage under her robe. She wasn’t wearing a t-shirt. It made me wonder how much she actually wore under her robe.

“Is it okay?” Freya asked, noticing my eyes traveling. “It’s just so warm, and I just had a cold shower and… stuff.”

“Yeah, sorry. Just spacing out,” I muttered, looking up at her eyes. She seemed in her regular way. But she hesitated a moment, looking at me with a slightly confused look.

“You need to, erh, undress,” she said, a bit unsure.

“What?” I asked, as unsure as she was.

“Uhm, your thighs?” Freya said, nodding but not looking towards my shorts that reached below my knees.

Oh right. To avoid any awkwardness, I quickly discarded my shorts. I didn’t toss them far away though. Freya’s eyes remained true too. So I closed mine. Cold oil soon trailed my chest and Freya’s fingers soon after, smearing it out. Laying on my back, with her right next to me, I could feel her scent closely. She usually smelled of sweat, but sitting to my left, pressing her palms into me I felt her truer aroma tickle my nose. I ignored it. We had two weeks down here, and she was still my coach. A relationship I couldn’t afford to compromise. Almost literally too. I relied on her too much for any stupid stuff.

Still, as Freya coated my chest in oil, I couldn’t help but think sometimes she cupped a bit more than necessary, gripping and squeezing slightly from time to time. ‘It is just part of the massage,’ I silently concluded.

“So who else is on the card?” I asked, trying to focus on why we truly were down in Tampa at all.

“I’m not familiar with any of these influencers, or whatever the fuck. They call it crossover boxing, some of the more ‘experienced’ douchebags wanting to test themselves against real fighters,” Freya snorted. “I can tell you right now, if you don’t knock this dude out in the first round, you might as well retire.”

I wasn’t sure if I should laugh at that. I knew it was more or less true. But I didn’t foresee it going that long, anyway. The guy seemed nice enough, though, so why drag it on? Four rounds of getting his skull caved in versus going out in one blow?

“Maybe I’ll knock him out with a liver shot,” I suggested. “To save the guy a bit. He seems nice.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. Take the first opportunity you get to get him outta there, no matter how,” Freya said sternly, repositioning herself to around my waist for my thighs. “Now shut up so I can concentrate.”

Freya turned slightly for a better angle, but also made her sit in a more casual sideways position, her feet curled up under her slightly. As she wore a robe, this new angle allowed me to see much more of her legs. Toned, tanned, girthy, and solid-looking. I’d seen her plenty of times in tights and shorts, but seeing her naked smooth thighs in front of me… I bet her skin was soft and warm. I could feel the heat from her calves resting next to my torso. ‘Stop ogling your fucking trainer,’ I reminded myself. God, I couldn’t wait to rail Mel and Hope again. Two weeks. Luckily my semi had subsided a while ago, as I had gotten used to the sensation of the massage.

Instead of looking at Freya, I closed my eyes and envisioned how I’d bang the two of them. I hoped one day to sleep with both, like with the blow jobs, but that was far-fetched. I knew it would be a slow process, if at all, but a boy can dream. And dream I did, thinking back to how they frenched each other right in front of me after my debut. Maybe thinking of my loved ones making out wasn’t the best strategy to make me get distracted.

Envisioning those two, I felt my cock grow at a rapid pace. Smart move, idiot. Right in front of Freya. She’d see me throb. I opened my eyes, and I saw her sitting how she did before, slightly turned away, now having both her oiled hands on my furthest thigh, kneading firmly away at my quads.

“Sorry,” I muttered. She had done me the courtesy of being honest, so I wanted to offer the same.

“It’s okay,” Freya muttered. I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or angry.

Freya did the right thing, though. She didn’t give it any other response. I knew very well she’d never make a single move on me, both having a lot of respect for Mel, and Hope, but also me as her pupil. It was a line mentor and the student never should cross, no matter what, and her being a combat sports person through and through, I knew Freya would never betray that bond. And I was glad she wouldn’t. This was as heated as it would ever likely get between us.

“Might need a shower after this,” Freya complained. “This has to’ve been the warmest April in years, right?”

“I don’t know. I’m used to the Northwest and the Midwest, so Tampa is like a wet desert to me,” I said with a shrug. “Oh, careful–”

Freya had leaned over to grab more oil on the other side of me, and thus rubbed her wrist-to-elbow along my shaft, in essence giving it a stroke. I was so sensitive it was almost torture. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me with fear in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, a bit wide-eyed. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay, I’m just a bit sensitive,” I said, letting her lean up again, careful not to look anywhere but her eyes. Then I realized what I had just said. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Freya rolled her eyes, but not with as much conviction as she usually did. “TMI, Bran,” she said in a low voice.

“Yeah. Sorry,” I said, ready to let it rest. I just hoped it would go down enough so I could catch some sleep.

“Guys,” Freya scolded, scooting down to sit by my knee instead.

“What? I can’t help it,” I said, trying to keep things in a ‘trivial’ mood. “It builds pressure and it makes it more sensitive.” Well, there I went from ‘trivial’ to not so much.

I then caught Freya eyeing it. A full glance as her eyes went along my hidden cock’s length. Had she been eyeing me when she sat with her back towards me, and now just simply forgot I could see her? Suddenly she realized, her dark brown eyes darting to mine before blushing, resuming massaging my left thigh. It was the last bit before we were done, thankfully.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” she said, looking up at me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I encouraged. Freya glanced once more, and somehow that made me throb.

“You need to turn around again,” Freya said.

“Yeah?” I asked. I was sure she was more or less trying to get out of the situation.

“I forgot, erh, your glutes,” she said. Wait, was this a ploy to feel me up? I had my ass massaged before, but Maria never looked at my throbbing shaft before she did it.

But I rolled over, eager to hide my erection. Before I had time to react, Freya promptly took her fingers into my waistband and started gliding my tight boxer shorts down my ass, and before I guess she could react, she had put both fingers and palm on my right cheek and given it a squeeze. To mask it, she quickly squirted a bit too much oil onto me, feigning spreading it out.

Maria always did it with a towel separating us, and only by using her palms up under said towel. Freya had her own approach, if it was correct or not, where she used her fingers and thumbs to dig into the flesh of my ass. It was weird, but I sorta liked it too. I had never thought to be sensitive around that area, but as it was mostly an ungroped area, I guess it made sense. It tickled in fact.

“Never had my ass massaged like that before,” I moaned.

“Really? Well, it’s more of a hands-on approach. Just let me know if it’s too far,” Freya said, reassuring me she was only as comfortable as I was. Though, I could sense she was pushing it a bit. “Besides, we’ve more or less seen most of each other during training anyway.”

I guess that was true. I often trained in either shorts or boxers, as you got so insanely sweaty from hours on hours of boxing training. And Freya always wore skin-tight clothing. And today, I’d seen some of her skin, and she some of mine. I mean, it was just circumstantial, right?

“Seems like it’s not too bad, you’re getting goosebumps,” Freya commented. I guess I had in fact gotten goosebumps. To my surprise, she even gave me a very unhidden squeeze, but sort of in a playful manner.

“It tickles,” I excused. Deciding to play the playful route, Freya emphasized the ticklishness by running a featherlike finger from the bottom of one cheek, up and around to the other cheek, almost like a U. “Alright, alright. Enough,” I said, squirming lightly at her touch.

“Fine,” Freya said, playfulness lacing her voice, leaning down and doing something I’d never expect her of all people to do. She kissed me lightly on the shoulder. But only briefly. She shot back up, her hands drawing to her mouth. “Sorry! Fuck, Bran, I forgot for a second… Sorry!”

“Ugh, it’s okay… just, erh, please keep things… you know…” I said, not wanting to yell at her.

I turned around and saw the distraught on Freya’s face. She probably got a bit lost in the moment. It was a gesture coming from a good place. It was by no means okay, but still. I took her hands in mine, taking them away from her face, and looking into her darker eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said again. “Let’s, erh, let’s call it a night, eh? I’m not pissed. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Freya nodded frantically, moving aside so I could get over to my bed. Sleep didn’t come as easy as it should’ve. I felt bad both for Freya and for letting it go so far. Both for me, my girlfriends at home, and Freya. It didn’t feel great, honestly. When I woke that morning, I even stole out on the balcony to call Mel, knowing she was on her way to work. She listened carefully as I told every single little detail of the massage.

“That’s not too bad,” Mel said after. “We know she got the hots for you. At least you didn’t fuck the shit out of her or something.”

“Mel, I feel like shit,” I said honestly.

“Awh, you don’t have to feel bad,” Mel said warmly. “It was an accident. She probably just got caught up or something. It’s okay. Just keep her clothes on and some towels for modesty.”

“Yeah, it was really warm yesterday so she had a cold shower before and stuff… God, I can’t wait to see you again,” I groaned impatiently.

“It’s only been a day,” Mel scolded playfully.

“Yeah, that’s a day too much,” I replied.

“Yeah. Well, I gotta go. No harm no foul, Bran. If anything, I’ll call her later and talk to her,” Mel said. We exchanged goodbyes and hung up.

*

When we went to work out that morning, Freya seemed a bit embarrassed. But she dealt with it the only way she knew, by torturing me. Training me hard. It was the last full week of real training, so this was when we had to go hard. We anticipated an easy victory, but when it comes to getting punched in the head you have to be ready for anything. The guy had enough money to buy the best trainers, so we had to take him seriously, despite not being a real boxer.

That evening, it was again time for my massage. I wasn’t sure how to broach this, but Freya seemed like she did. She was also dressed in white sweatpants and a white t-shirt instead of a bathrobe.

“About yesterday,” Freya said. She looked reluctant and shy but determined to talk this out. “And shut up now, don’t interrupt. It went a bit too far. We were both tired and perhaps a bit fucked up from the warmth. I talked with Mel, like she told you. I’ll keep my clothes on, and I got these big thick towels to cover with, and we’re doing the massage on your bed. No more funny business from either of us and that’s the end of it.”

I looked at her. I knew there was no room for discussion. I just shrugged my shoulders and laid down. And that was honestly the end of it for the rest of the weeks.

The weeks were still torture. While I was pent up, I also missed hanging out at home. I wanted to see how our new home was coming along. Our home. Which we literally had poured blood, sweat, and tears into. We worked our asses off, and soon, in the coming months, we’d be able to move into something we had built ourselves, that was completely ours.

And as a guy, I also missed Mel and Hope for obvious reasons. I never knew I was such a sex fiend until I spent two weeks away from them. Starved of their love, I constantly felt my focus shift from the training to images of them in various sexual acts with both me and with each other. I couldn’t wait until this fight was over. I wanted to see my girls, to watch them smile and laugh, to have the greatest time of my life with them. To see them sunbathe, bake, play sports in our new giant backyard, and work the new garden together with them. Experience life outside of the squared circle with my two beauties.

*

We were heading to some sort of press conference or some shit. I had never been at one, as I was a total nobody in the fighting game. I was a pro, so I guess that was the enticing part of me for these guys, and I tended to knock out people, or at least knock them down. But with big egos to be stroked, press conference here we go. It mostly consisted of a bunch of the influencers, some I even drew recognition of, talking trash to one another.

I could barely see the journalists, honestly. All the lights sorta blinded me. Just as well. One person I did notice, however, was Johnny something. I had fought on the same card as him on my debut. I didn’t like him then, and I don't like him now. He just had this arrogant vibe over him, and as he talked to his opponent, all he wanted to talk about was how he was gonna fuck this kid’s girl after he beat the shit out of him. It was just stupid alpha-dog bullshit that was uncalled for. As for as I knew, he had no real beef with the kid, it was just shit he said. And I even talked to Johnny’s own girl, Christy, and she was extremely nice, so you’d think he couldn’t be too bad. But he was. He was so fucking obnoxious.

I paid none of it any mind as I just sat there fidgeting with my bottle, thinking about cuddling up to Mel with Hope cuddling up to me. I was so fed up with all this bullshit. At this point, the anticipation to fight and the anticipation for it to be over were all matched up. Until the influencer guy next to me nudged me. “Huh?” I said, looking at him and then up in front of me. I realized someone had asked me a question.

“I asked, how do you see this fight going?” some guy asked. I guess he was the host.

“Oh,” I said, thinking back to what Freya had said. “I’ll retire from boxing if it goes to the second round,” I replied, turning back to fidgeting with my bottle, unaware of how it had gone over with the crowd.

“That was fucking cold,” Freya said that night in the room. We sat on the two-seater and ate our dinner. It was the night before the weigh-in and face-off and the day after that; the fight. “I know I forbid you from looking up what people say, but I can tell you people out there liked it a lot.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care. I just want to go home to Indiana,” I said, more annoyed than I meant it to be, being more homesick than one could possibly imagine. I was just dying to get it over with.

Freya smiled at that. “You miss them?” Freya asked.

I let out a heavy sigh. “Yes. I love those two girls so much, I can’t fucking stand being here,” I said in all honesty.

“Yeah, they’re fantastic,” Freya agreed. “Well, they’re here tomorrow night.”

“But I can’t see ‘em until after the show, and it doesn’t end until midnight,” I said defeatedly. That was how it was with these things. To maintain focus, I was always alone with my team the two to three days before the fight, this time around a whole two weeks. Everyone in my camp knew if I was allowed access to my girls I’d never make it to the ring.

The face-off the next day was just me looking at the guy in the face for a few seconds for pictures after a ceremonial weigh-in. Dead 175 lbs as usual. I was the professional here, so making weight was the least of my problems. The guy was pretty well-built himself, and a bit taller, but nothing to worry about.

Usually, on the night before a fight, I was nervous along with a weird mix of anticipation and fear. This time around, I was just impatient. As fuck. I paced the room all night more or less, only getting a few hours on the pillow. If this was against a real fighter I’d be worried, but I was still confident I’d fuck this guy up in under a minute, perhaps two. Some thirty-year-old chef who had one or two fights before? I had perhaps just two professional fights myself, both won by way of knock-out, but I had amateur bouts in the double digits. And I was still 21, at least for a few more hours, so I was also much younger.

“You’ve been pacing all night?” Freya asked when she woke up. I could tell she wore very little under her blanket, so I turned away to let her dress.

“I slept a bit,” I muttered.

The rest of the day was much like any other fight night. Waiting and waiting. Frank showed up in our room as my cut and Vaseline man. When the clock reached five, I finally stood from the chair. “Alright. Let’s go get this shit done,” I said, yanking my trainers up from their respective seats.

“What’s the fight order?” I asked Frank in the elevator.

“You’re the third last fight. Apparently, the guy you’re fighting is a big deal in the influencer scene,” Frank said, shrugging his shoulders. I did too.

I wanted to be the first so I could bail, but whatever. I was obligated to stay for the duration. Part of the reason was that they expected the fighters to linger around, but I guess there was drug testing too. At least we lived close to the Yuengling Center, where the fight was. I would be fighting in front of a fully packed 10,000 arena. It was a big jump from the 500 I usually fought in front of.

“How’s my substitute doing?” I asked. Frank had to get another part-time accountant during my camps, as I was too busy being a pro boxer.

“He’s alright,” Frank said with yet another shrug. “You shouldn’t worry about that, though.”

“Bran, focus,” Freya urged. She knew how I’d almost spun into a frenzy of distractfulness and homesickness.

It was hard. Firstly, to take the fight seriously, and secondly, to focus at all. I wasn’t used to this. Maybe the giant stadium, the giant audience, and the two weeks away from Mel and Hope were taking its toll on me more than I recognized myself. Freya was right. I needed to focus.

“Remember, you need to get him outta there quick, but that doesn’t mean you gotta do something stupid, right?” Freya said, sensing my urgency.

“Of course,” I said. It would truly be embarrassing if I got flatlined by an influencer.

“He has a shit Philly shell, so you can easily make work with your right, and off the jab,” Freya added.

“Hey, how about we watch a movie and chill the fuck out for a bit?” Frank said, trying a different approach to calm me down.

So in the middle of the locker room, while the influencers and other fighters were doing their thing, the three of us huddled together over the tablet to watch some ‘Destination Wedding’, one of my favorite movies. We got halfway through the puma scene before it was my turn to walk out.

“Brandon Langley,” some announcer called. It was my turn.

“Meet you out there,” Freya said, and she and Frank headed off. They’d meet me by the ring, which meant I had to walk out alone.

For a few moments, I was alone in the entire locker room and everyone in it. They all looked at me, but it was hard to gauge what they thought. Probably contemplating their own fights, looking at whoever was next, just to look. I looked at the guy who called for me, who waved for me to follow him.

I stood up and ignored the rest of the locker room as I headed after the announcer. Through a few corridors, and in front of a sponsor wall. I looked at it, unable to really draw attention to the brands. Then a camera was shoved in my face and my walkout song, a Creedence song picked by Mel, started to play.

The volume of the audience was mind-boggling. There wasn’t a huge pop or anything for me in particular, but it was plenty more than the few folks who knew who I was in a 500-person arena in Indianapolis. Even if they were just cheering for the sake of cheering, they were way more than what I was used to. Luckily, it wasn’t a long walk, and as soon as I stepped into the ring, I could truly make out how much bigger this arena was. Rows and rows of people. I knew they weren’t here for me, but it was still mind-boggling to see 10,000 folks gathered all in the same place to watch me fight.

I looked across the ring and saw the guy I was fighting as they announced him. It then dawned on me that I didn’t even know his name. I had watched every second of his only two fights but never bothered to learn his name. This was just a stepping stone, so my eyes were only ahead. He was just another opponent, after all.

“Introducing in the red corner, fighting out of Courtington Indiana. He stands 5 foot 7 inches tall with a 70-inch reach, weighing in at 175 lbs. He got an undefeated perfect record of 2 wins and 0 losses, both wins coming by way of knock-out, Bran ‘No Answer’ Langley!” the announcer yelled into the microphone. My introduction was way shorter, I mused.

I turned to Frank, who had just shown up behind my shoulder. “‘No answer’? That’s supposed to be my nickname?”

“Lewis wanted a nickname on the forms. Hope put ‘No Answer’,” Frank explained.

“Why?”

“I think she misunderstood what N/A stands for,” Frank chuckled, before turning me back to hear the rulings of the ref. Abide my command, defend yourself at all times, yadda yadda.

About a minute later, the influencer laid flat on his back, unable to get up. After I punched him the first time, even if it was just a stiff jab, I could tell he had never been hit that hard. It was over before it had started. He caught my right on the glove, but I saw him wince even still. I punched him hard in the solar plexus, and from there it was free real estate, as Josh said. Rear hook to the head, and three lead hooks to his liver and he was down and out.

I quickly got my gloves off with the help of Freya and Frank, eager to get out of there, but with my ass halfway out of the ring, some tall dude grabbed hold of me for an in-ring interview. My inexperience in these events shone through.

“Tell me, Mr. No Answer, did you give the audience any answers tonight?” the guy asked, shoving a microphone in my face.

“Just add it to the highlight reels,” I breathed, still panting from the adrenaline dump. I gave the guy a nod and was again stopped, as the guy raised my hand for the audience's cheers. At that point, I felt a bit dizzy. I wasn’t sure how to take this. I just wanted out of here as quickly as possible, even more so now that the arena filled with people was now cheering.

*

The small gang sitting around in the locker room gave me a small round of applause as I came back. Apparently, our corner hadn’t had many victories, so it was a welcome to the folks in the back that I won. Besides, it looked pretty devastating. I looked up at the TV as they replayed how I had battered the guy. I wasn’t used to watching myself, but god I was fast. And strong. Never had I looked at myself and thought ‘god damn’ in awe of myself. It felt good. Like everything I had worked for since I started boxing showed how much I had improved. I actually looked like a real boxer as I landed my three left hooks in slow motion.

“You’ve got murder in your eyes,” Frank said, looking up at the screen.

“He’s just eager to find himself some women to blow some steam off,” Freya teased. Frank chuckled, seeing my reaction, which revealed the truth of Freya’s joke.

“I met them a bit before I came back. They’re very proud,” Frank said, before placing his hands on my shoulders, making me look in his eyes. “And so is Freya, and so am I.”

Frank slumped down and I joined him, both of us sighing. “I’ve never fought in front of such crowds. You’ve come so far from that insecure little twerp that came into our gym seven or eight months ago.”

“But Bran fights so much differently from you,” Freya countered, perhaps a bit too eagerly as she stood up to glare at us. Nobody was to downplay me on her watch. Not that I think that was Frank’s intention. He just raised an eyebrow, and Freya blushed. But in for a penny in for a pound. “I mean, in almost all of his matches he knocks people out or down. I mean, why else would James and those folks spend so much money on him? Bran’s just exciting to watch.”

Frank raised his eyebrow even higher, and I guess so did I. Freya always had a way of stumbling her sentences into awkward corners.

“Oh shut up,” Freya said, more annoyed than she usually was.

“I get it. He’s your prodigy. You’re supposed to be proud,” Frank said, nudging my shoulder. “Right, Bran?”

“No doubt. I could never have done any of this without you, Freya,” I said. “All I know was taught by you, so if there is anyone that should be proud it’s you.”

At that, Freya threw herself at me, her arms wrapping around my neck as she kissed my cheek. Instinctually, I caught her so she wouldn’t just slam into the concrete floor.

“You’re the best pupil one could ask for. That does everything I tell you to,” Freya said, pulling back, smiling a bit awkwardly as her brown eyes looked into mine. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said, a bit dumbfounded. “Want to watch these other fights?”

Freya nodded and I released her. I looked at the others in the locker room. They were busy watching the next fight after me. It was Johnny Kopperson, the guy I didn’t like. He was currently smiling his stupid grin as he had just knocked out some nine-teen-year-old influencer and was now beckoning the influencer’s girl over. The girl looked in a mix of horror, disgust, and shock. And right in front of the cameras, in front of the pulp of a boyfriend, Kopperson shoved his tongue into her mouth.

“Jesus Christ, what an asshole,” Frank muttered.

“Right in front of anyone. I can’t imagine the humiliation,” I muttered. To have your girl violated like that in front of everyone? I knew they did some stupid bet like influencers always did, but this was just sick.

Some idiot then rushed the ring and tried to attack Johnny Kopperson, but was knocked out flat. A brawl and a riot emerged, setting a whole pause to everything. I couldn’t bear to watch as I was silently annoyed that this stalled the end of the event and thus stalled me from seeing Mel and Hope.

For everyone’s sake, the folks were ushered out of the ring. And the next fight commenced. I didn’t watch it, as I just got a text message from Mel. It was a room number in the same hotel as I was already staying at, and a notice for me to ask the reception for a keycard. My heart felt like it accumulated all its strength into slow, throbbing thuds. The anticipation was unreal, and the implication was thought provocative, to say the least.

“What are those tattoos?” I heard someone ask as I sat staring at my phone, visions of Mel delicately moving her lithe, voluptuous body across a bed while I devoured, her flashed through my mind.

It was some female reporter who apparently had access to the locker room. Though, she didn’t have a camera right now. She seemed done interviewing some of the bigger names. I guess I just stared at her dumbfounded. She wore a dress, but it was thoroughly see-through.

“Alexis,” she said, a green-eyed brunette, with curves for days, nodding towards my chest, where I had several kisses tattooed on me in several colors. Red and black from Mel and Hope. Two blue ones from Pam and Vanessa on my ribs. “What’s up with those?”

“Oh,” I said. I didn’t think I’d have to ever explain ‘em. But I thought they were sorta cool, though. “Those are battle scars.”

Alexis' eyes narrowed a bit, but they widened as she caught my meaning. She promptly sat down to my left, ignoring I had my two trainers right there. “Really? Would you like… some further additions?” she asked, not sugarcoating what she wanted. I gulped as I looked at her. She was quite beautiful. And that dress was very see-through.

“I’m good,” I said, trying to be polite.

“Oh, I bet you are,” Alexis purred, leaning a bit closer.

“Hey, slut,” Freya spat, standing up. “Why don’t you fuck off, alright? Fucking groupie whore!”

Alexis looked like she had been slapped across the face, and even looked at me as if I were to step in from her verbal beatdown. But she wasn’t moving fast enough, Freya grabbed her hair and ripped her up from her seat, and shoved her toward the security who was currently rushing over.

“Get her out of here. She’s harassing the fighters,” Frank explained, as a seething Freya slumped down where Alexis had sat, putting herself between the locker room and me.

I knew Freya was a tough broad, she had beaten me up plenty of times, but to see her stepping up like that… I was in awe, honestly.

“Badass,” I said, nudging her. “Protecting this fair maiden.”

“Shut up, Bran,” Freya said, but offering a small smile. Frank shook his head and chuckled at her.

*

The last hour of the evening had been nothing short of torture. I waited and waited, watching the hugfest that was the main event, then getting drug tested, then there was some more fighting in one of the corridors which made the staff and security hold us back for at least another fifteen minutes.

But finally.

Freya and Frank joined me in an Uber to the hotel. Freya was getting her stuff and leaving as soon as possible, and Frank was joining her.

When I finally reached the hotel clerk, I was pretty stressed out from the whole thing.

“What can I help you with?” the clerk asked.

“Erh. Room… what was it?” I mumbled, finding my phone and handing it to the clerk.

“One of our Junior Suites. Certainly,” he replied, turning around to find the key card.

‘Junior suite? What kinda mischief are you up to, Mel?’ I thought, before thanking the clerk and heading to the elevator. Despite the long day, I was surprisingly awake. I figured I’d fall asleep right as I hit the airplane seat, but as I stood there in anticipation, awaiting a junior suite, I guess I was staying at least an extra day.

I quickly found the room, clicked the door, and entered. Unsure of what I would find. The first thing I saw was the view over Tampa Bay. It was night, so you couldn’t really see much, but it was there for sure. Stepping into the room, I saw the light had been dimmed down to an almost orange glow. It fitted, as despite being dark outside, it was still very warm.

Speaking of warm. As I made my way into the room, I felt a warm, ever slightly taller presence snake up behind me, snaking her arms around my waist and up along my chest, a nose diving into my hair, and a satisfied humm.

“Finally,” Mel whispered in my ear, her voice dripping with wanton desire.

One of her hands moved to my neck, up to cup my chin, and gently tilted my head to look up into her blue eyes, and freckled nose, but only for a quarter of a second as her tongue soon entered my mouth. I closed my eyes and savored my woman as she savored me, kissing me with such passion.

Oh god, how I had missed her. And before I could turn to apply my hands to her body, I felt another presence in the front. Joining her mother, I felt Hope press into me from the front, her fingers taking my hands, guiding them to their rightful place, and pressing my fingers into her own cheeks, only separated by some silky material. Her other hand shoved a cold bottle into my hand.

Mel finally let go of my lips, only to gently direct me towards her sexy little daughter, and soon my mouth was equally dominated by the smaller girl. Mel moved towards the room as I feasted on Hope’s pert lips. It was a gentler kiss but with just as much hunger and ferociousness. It was like I was between two lionesses and I was their dinner.

After what felt like a wonderful eternity, Hope let go, looking up into me with her smiling eyes. She looked so happy. Happy to see me. I looked her over. It was only now I noticed she wore a black silk robe that reached to her mid-thigh. She also wore her heavy goth makeup, all black from lipstick to mascara, but with a smoky touch for the occasion.

“Drink up,” Hope said, still smiling.

I brought the bottle to my lips and took a long gulp. The beer tasted like victory, and indeed in that moment, I indeed felt like I was succeeding in life. Hope took my hand and guided me into the room where Mel took me over, promptly shoving me on the bed, and I climbed up to lean back on the pillows.

Mel too wore a silky robe, only a deep shade of red. And her lips glistened in the orange light, looking like a glass of blood-colored red wine. If I wasn’t excited before, I certainly am now. The two beauties stood at the edge of the bed, looking at me with two weeks of pent-up hunger. I looked at them with the same appetite.

Mel and Hope exchanged a look and devious smiles, then looked over at me with utter conviction. Both at the same time reached behind their back and untied their robes. Even the loosening of the strings I could see some of the garments within. But as they let their outer attire synchronously fall to the floor, my eyes went wide in awe of what lengths these two mad women had gone to.

My eyes went first to Mel, her being the most colorful. She wore red nylon fishnet stockings that reached to her mid-thigh, held up by also red strings that led up to a garter belt that truly extenuated her mature female curves, framing her hips and thighs in such an erotic way. I could barely take my eyes off of her legs as I felt my eyes practically bulging. But as I finally did, I found her lacy panties and the wide hips framed by the garter belt. She was so unbelievably sexy in her skimpy clothes, yet I wanted to tear them off and eat her. It felt like I was having a heart attack, but I remained still as I felt part of the show was for me to lay still and let my eyes roam the two. My eyes reached across her slim waist and up her torso, I saw her big breasts heaving out of a lacy bra, which I knew was the first item I had to tear off.

Then I moved my eyes to Hope. She was smiling even wider as I looked at her. She probably saw my admiration and was eager to feel some for her as well. She had a similar set of lingerie but in black. Black lacy bra, the sexy garters, and straps leading to her nylon-clad thighs. And silky panties. I wanted to just pry those knees apart and devour her too. I guess my eyes told as much, as the two giggled in unison.

“I guess he likes our birthday present,” Hope said, still not taking her eyes of me.

“I guess you’re right,” Mel said, and the two started to climb up the bed, looking at me with conviction. “You might want to take another sip of that beer.”

Hope reached to the nightstand where I had left the bottle, and as she moved my eyes glued to her cleavage and how the strings clung to her thighs as she moved. I quickly took a gulp of the beer and she took it back to the nightstand.

“You two are so fucking hot,” I said in a hoarse whisper.

“Oh we’re only just getting started,” Mel whispered as she settled on the outside of my left knee.

“Oh yeah,” Hope concurred, sitting to my right. “We’ve been starving and now it’s time to eat,” she said, making a show of biting her teeth together.

It was only the small warning I got before Hope shoved her mouth on mine. This time there was no tenderness. It was pure hunger. She worked her tongue into my mouth and mauled me. I was caught off guard but quickly regained my composure enough to move my hand to cradle her head. She was not going anywhere if I had any say in the matter. But I didn’t. Hope, being quite strong for her size, shoved me off and started kissing me all over the face. Then my chin. Then my chest. Even flicking her tongue across my nipples as she viscously groped my muscles. And as she crept down, Mel swung her leg across my face, slid her skimpy red panties aside, and promptly reduced my world to her womanly scents in a crimson cage of her most delicious parts.

I eagerly, hungrily, started shoving my tongue into her, frenching her with everything I had. I could soon feel her spasm as I did, but with my hands firmly locked around her thighs, pressing her down on me, I knew she had no escape despite being on top. Mel quivered and convulsed on top of me, and soon enough I felt her gush and buck into my hungry mouth.

Meanwhile, Hope was no sleeper. She had made her way down to my testicles, slurping around them as if trying to wake them up with her soft mouth, her hand eagerly jerking my length. I felt like I could’ve shot my load already, but Hope was just edging me, stopping just when she should. Then Hope’s mouth disappeared from my balls, but I still heard wet smacking sounds, only they came from somewhere above my throbbing erection. Mel lifted just enough off of me so I could tilt my head to see.

There, inches above my cock, I saw their glistening lips and tongues collide back and forth, Mel holding her daughter’s head in place, dominating her with her tongue shoved into her mouth. Hope whimpered cutely, but hungrily as Mel ate away at her. I felt my cock pulse and ache, and with one giant throb, Mel shot her hand, without even looking, to pinch the base of my cock, prolonging my eruption. It was torture.

“Climb on top of him,” Mel commanded Hope.

Hope nodded eagerly, making her way up from being seated between my knees, to be seated on top of my throbbing cock. I never saw her descent, as Mel filled my vision with her shapely ass, lodging my tongue in her depths and my nose into her ass so I could barely breathe, but I sure as hell felt when Hope slid down. There was some initial resistance from Hope as she was so unbelievably tight, but soon I felt the tip and inch by inch succumb to her wet warmness, swallowing every bit of my shaft as my head barged its way through her entrance, traveling towards the deepest parts of her.

“Oh god,” I moaned into Mel’s pussy.

“Shush,” she scolded, lowering herself even further onto my face, making breathing hard.

As eagerly as I ate out Mel, I felt Hope hop up and down on my cock. As there was so much to touch and feel, I couldn’t decide if I would clutch Mel’s thighs or grab Hope’s ass. But it wasn’t long until I felt Hope’s tightness clenched, almost crushing my shaft, as she bucked and panted in rhythm with the onslaught of her own orgasm. Mel quickly engaged with her daughter’s lips again, pushing the eroticness of her daughter’s orgasm to another heigh. It was with a white-knuckled effort that I didn’t cum, with all the visuals of Mel’s pussy and ass in my face, Hope’s cock-crushing orgasm, and the sounds of the two of them making up on top of me. Not cumming then and there was perhaps my strongest feat of strength.

Then I felt both of their weights shift off of me, and as I looked to my right, I saw Mel on top of her daughter, giving her one long, deep, passionate, tongue-laced kiss, before climbing off of Hope, sitting down next to her. Mel took a hold of Hope’s hands and pinned them above her head,  and looked over at me.

“Come on, Bran,” Mel moaned. “She’s all yours.”

“Yes, daddy, come and fuck the shit out of your little girl,” Hope moaned. “Come and dump that big load in me!”

I didn’t have to be asked twice. I climbed towards Hope, moving her knees aside and quickly found her naked entrance. Somewhere along the ride had she removed her panties. But she still had the garter belt on, beautifully framing in the work area designated for me. I shoved myself inside her, as I was so fucking hungry to rail them both by now. Hope was so tight and her eyes fluttered nicely as I quickly found a good rhythm. Mel chuckled above, gently tilting my head again, this time so I could get my mouthful of her dominance. I swore I could taste her daughter on her lips, and it made me fuck said daughter even harder. But I couldn’t keep up the fucking and making out with Mel, Hope being unbelievably tight and warm, clenching my girth with each thrust, so I fell forward, mashing my lips against hers instead.

Mel disengaged Hope’s wrists, instead climbing out of sight. I didn’t have to wonder where to, as I soon felt a tender wetness against my testicles and sack. Oh god, this was getting too much. She was sucking and licking my balls as I was threatening to cum in her own daughter. Mel treated my balls softly, tickling them in every which way she knew I liked, and soon I felt my them boil over. They started to jump in her mouth. Mel disengaged for a mere moment.

“Yesss, Bran, fuck that big load into my daughter,” she whispered, before encouraging said eruption by sucking both of my balls into her mouth.

I did as I was told. I locked my lips into the whimpering mouth of Hope, took her hands and pinned them like Mel had, and soon after there was nothing that could hold back my violent orgasm. With several violent shudders and uncontrolled thrusts, I dropped what had to be one of my biggest loads inside of Hope.

“There ya go. Let it go. Just let loose inside of me. Don’t hold back. Come on. Oh yeah, there ya go,” Hope moaned into my ear, encouraging me to fill her up.

Goosebumps shot through me as I pumped my hips into her over and over, cumming inside her as deep as I could, more and more. Even after I had fucked the last of my cum into her I felt myself shudder. I lowered my head into her breasts as the effort to stay up became too much, feeling Hope’s arms wrap around me, encouraging me to give her just one more thrust.

“That is so much,” Hope moaned, smiling deliriously at me, kissing my cheek softly.

“I hoped I’d last longer, but Jesus, you two are just too fucking hot,” I groaned, getting up on my elbows.

Mel had at some point disengaged with my balls, and now had one hand on my ass cheek, groping it, another on her daughter's thigh, moving it aside as if to study my handy work.

“Don’t worry. We laced the beer with Viagra,” Mel said, moving her gaze from where I was docked inside Hope to meet my eyes. I must’ve been quite surprised by the revelation because the two of them chuckled. Lo and behold, my erection subsided, but indeed not fully. “We’re gonna have what we missed, and for the next few hours, you’re going to give it to us.”

“You cheeky devils,” I chuckled.

“Now please pull out,” Mel said with a certain hunger, sitting on her knees to my right.

With my shaft still aching from how hard I’d cum, and how much friction Hope had shuddered my girth with, I started dragging my cock out of her. With a wet slurp, I pulled out of her and sat down to my left. To my major surprise, Mel moved down flat on her stomach, sinking her head between Hope’s thighs, and without any prompt or question, she lowered her wet tongue into her daughter’s cum-leaking pussy and started eating her out with vigor. Hope let out a loud squeal, clenching her eyes shut and clutching the sheets, as she bucked against her mother’s tongue. I didn’t know if this was Mel’s first time eating someone out, but she sure seemed to know what she was doing.

And true to the laced beer, I felt myself grow erect again. Though, I didn’t need to get drugged to get hard from watching Mel eagerly eat my creampie out of Hope. Both still in their garter belts and lacy bras. Mel was still in her panties, though, which was something I figured I had to do something about. So I jumped towards the end of the bed and settled behind her. I moved my hands gently along her spine, feeling how warm and soft she was. Jesus how I had missed Mel’s warmth. After a few strokes of my fingers, I took hold of her slim waist and entered her hands-free. Fucking Mel from behind was one of my favorite positions, given her amazing ass, slim waist, and god-like shapes, but while she was eating out my other girlfriend; her own daughter, had me throbbing with each thrust.

“Fuck yeah,” Hope said, looking up at me with her one hand famously above her head, the other under her chin as if she couldn’t figure out what to do with herself under the assault her own mother gave her. “Fuck that hot milf,” she moaned, tilting her head back and shoving against the pillow as Mel made her cum.

I gripped Mel tighter and plunged into her wetness over and over. She was so warm and clenched beautifully around my girth, shoving back to meet my thrusts. With how she bucked, convulsed, and evidently moaned between Hope’s thighs, I knew she was cumming too. She became more audible as she disengaged from her daughter's pussy, as the strong oncoming orgasm made it impossible to eat her out. Mel leaned up into a seated position, and as she did, I slid my hands along her body until I cupped her big breasts. I sucked down into her neck as she continued to grind in my lap, making herself cum even harder, as I met every grind with a small, deep thrust myself.

“Fuck I love you so much,” I whispered into her ear, as I felt her climax, groping her voluptuous breasts gently but dedicatedly. Wetness smeared me as much as it dripped onto the bed underneath us. Thank God they had put some blankets there beforehand.

“And– agh– And I love you too,” Mel moaned.

“That goes for you both,” I said, as Hope in all honesty held my love just as much. Especially now.

Hope then started to take some initiative after her back-to-back orgasms, one from me fucking her after two weeks of celibacy, and another on behest of the taboo actions of her own mother eating my thick sperm out of her. As Mel fell forward from cumming herself, Hope took hold of her head and guided her down so Mel once again could eat her daughter out. I guess she did, because Hope tilted her head back with a satisfied smile, a hand still resting in her mother’s hair.

“That’s the spot,” Hope moaned.

But Mel wasn’t done. She snaked one of her hands up and out of sight to join her tongue, only by how Hope winced I guessed she hit the spot I knew Hope loved toyed with the most. Her ass. The pulses from Mel’s arm told me everything I needed to know. She was fingering Hope’s ass while eating her out.

“That’s so nasty,” I said in the most complimentary of ways.

I then got the idea to slide myself out of Mel, get to my knees, and join her in her eating endeavors. Only, I knelt down behind Mel and shoved my tongue right into her sphincter, soon my tongue piercing right into her bowels. Oh what heaven. I sucked down with my lips as I swirled my tongue around, then wriggled it deep with alternating pulses. Back and forth, in and out. Mel gasped and moaned in unison, increasing her lustily laps herself. Within moments both the girls started to moan with sensual climaxes dripping from their sacred tunes, coating my ears and arousal with the sounds of their pleasure. Mel was thrusting back against me and clenching hard, Hope clutching her mother’s head and shrieking in quiet whimpers as the two of them came at the same time. If any sexual performance could ever be deemed as art, those two hotties cumming together while getting their asses eaten and fingered had to classify.

But with women cumming all over the place, my impatient arousal stoked its way along, and I soon pushed myself inside of Mel again, this determined to fill her up. Within the next few pumps I poured myself inside of my loving girlfriend, and dumped into the bed beside them, utterly exhausted. Delirious.

I guess I sort of had spaced out for a bit, because when I came to, my hands were lazily handcuffed to one of the bed posts, and Mel’s left breast was shoved in my mouth, her flesh spilling all over my face, as she grinded hard on my cock. Soon followed by Hope grinding me. Then Mel. Then Hope. For hours and hours. Two weeks worth of pent up sexual suppression was getting taken out on me, and in return, those two weeks worth of suppression was pumped into my two loving girlfriends.

I have no idea how to even describe the ache in my back, in my thighs, and in my dick for days after, to be honest. If there was a hall of fame for best birthdays, that night certainly had to be part of it. At least in mine. By a landslide. Continent slide, if there even is such a thing.

When I woke up that morning, I had them both sleeping and purring on my chest, and, of course, I felt like the king of the world. In less than 24 hours I fought in front of the biggest crowds, won, then had one of the best threesomes I could possibly imagine. The fact that my girlfriends had planned all this without me, getting matching lingerie sets, and booking an extra luxurious hotel room for an extra night, told me all I needed to know about their dedication. And as fucked it sounds, the fact that they drugged me so they could have their way with me… It was oddly thrilling.

I just hoped I could continue to be worthy of everything they did for me. All that we had done so far to facilitate my boxing career. I guess by winning, and getting bigger and bigger purses, were something I did. It allowed us to build our home, start our own businesses, and in general not be too worried about the financial burdens of life. Comfortable, you could call it, if not luxurious. Though, with those scolding hot beauties in arms, I felt like I had the most luxurious life anyhow.

In fact, despite the long night, I rolled on top of Mel and pushed into her, wrapping my arms up under her back and to her shoulders to press into her hard. Feeling her soaking wet even still made the friction all the better, sending my mind in overdrive as I floated into her, feeling every inch of her depths and then some.

Looking to my right I saw Hope smiling at me, encouraging silently with a nod and a wink for me to fuck her mother, a hand of hers snaking down my lower back until it found one of my cheeks in which she grasped tightly. And as she was groping me, I felt Mel’s arms legs and arms wrap around me, her gasps more and more labored as I fucked her.

“That’s one way to wake up,” Mel moaned, before kissing my neck. Licking it. Sucking down and almost biting me. All the while, Hope continuously groped me, watching me rail Mel. “But I think you have to fix my daughter some breakfast in bed.”

When I didn’t react, as I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, Mel breathed tickling into my ear, “shove that big cock in her mouth.”

I slid myself from her, and moved to straddle Hope, who bit her lip as she laid back, eager for me to take her mouth. I pushed my cockhead into her mouth and gently rocked back and forth, almost making love to her warm, wet mouth. Mel then spanked my ass hard.

“I said shove. Fuck her mouth, Bran,” Mel said, looking down at Hope, sitting sat up a bit.

I started thrusting harder, or rather, firmer. It wouldn’t be long though, despite the long night. Hope, despite having her mouth stuffed, eagerly lapped in the sensitive areas under the head, and soon I fell forward as I came hard, shooting all across Hope’s enthusiastic tongue.

“Happy birthday,” Mel said, ruffling my hair, then jumped out of bed, my eyes glued to her cheeks as she walked completely naked toward the bathroom.

I of course fucked Mel in the shower again, and then when Hope needed her shower (as both girls had become very dirty), I fucked her too. But by noon, it was time to leave Tampa.

*

The next fight would be in Indianapolis again. But instead of at that regular 500 person place, I would, after my last now viral victory, co-main event a bigger card at a bigger venue. Against a real boxer, this time. Five and two for his career, with a decorated amateur career. A guy who had come into a slump a few fights ago, but was on his way back to become a national contender for one of those smaller titles. I never chased dreams like that, but it was nice to know I’d beat the shit out of some guy who should’ve been in the top rankings nationally.

Luckily, calmer heads prevailed. Yes, I was confident, especially with everything going my way, but it was important to take the fight game seriously. As it was, in fact, not a game. So Freya was that calm head. She knew the danger, and she took care of everything. I sometimes felt a bit bad at how much energy she poured into “Project Bran.” This would be my toughest fight to date. And it was a mere tune-up fight for Carlos Fernando.

But as Freya researched strategy, drilled every single ounce of tactic into my subconsciousness, I promised to make it all worth it. She believed in me and she did the work, I would merely be an instrument of her work. But I would do everything to be the best instrument. I jogged a mile extra each day, I was focused, and I even watched the other guys fights. He wasn’t a knockout artist which made him more dangerous due to my explosive style. I had lost those fights before. I might hit harder, and more power shots, but these point-boxers knew how to steal rounds. And it was six rounds, so he only had to steal a few before the situation became dire.

Of all the fights, this felt like the most important one. Even more so than against Carlos. If I lost this one, even if it was due to the guy sneaking behind his jab, my big payday fight would slip through my fingers. Win or lose against Carlos, I was paid the same. Win or lose against Lister, the name of my next opponent, I would not be paid the same. The goal post was Carlos, not this guy.

And Freya vigorously reminded me of this. Every day. This was it. I knew I could lose focus, but Freya had worked up quite a skill to refocus my distraction.

All of this meant a 12 week camp, in other words.

In the meantime, I was diligent in volunteering at the soup kitchen Maia used to be in. She still was, but she was hoping for medical school, which made schoolwork steal all her free time. So I stepped in. I had nothing better to do after training, and it wasn’t too tedious either. I even handed out a few tickets to the couple who bought the first car me and Hope had sold. Cassandra and her fiance. They weren’t too enthusiastic, but oh well.

One other thing that worked as a carrot, we had gotten an approximation on when we could move into our new home. With all the influx of cash, the house seemed to be a given, regardless if I got to the Carlos fight or not. By the end of June, probably just before my Carlos fight, the house should be ready. Just perfect. In the nick of time for that camp too.

But one camp at a time. Camp. A word I was honestly sick of. It wasn’t anything like a summer camp or any other camp I had been to while growing up. It was just a period of time you dedicated your training towards a specific fight. I don’t know how other coaches did stuff, but Freya had a firm belief in breaking up the different small tactics in the ring into different exercises she’d drill into me until I could do them in my sleep, or do it as easily as breathing. It made the ability to think in the heat of the moment so much easier. If I was in danger, I knew what tool to pick up to get out, or what schematic to follow if the person did this and that.

Fortunately, for my mental state at least, and cardio, I didn’t have to travel anywhere. I enjoyed my time at home, with Mel and Hope. Of course, the threesome was a special occasion, but we’d from time to time indulge in the taboo nature of having an extra person in bed. We had our regular one-on-one occasions too. It was honestly a testing phase where we sought the best dynamic. And the best dynamic turned out to be, do what comes natural. If Mel and Hope both happened to wanna fuck at the same time, I’d do them both. If not, I’d do either. Or one after the other.

“Focus, Bran, FOCUS!” Freya yelled in my face. I was sparring. It wasn’t like I was doing bad, but I guess I zoned out a bit, going on autopilot. “Lister will fuck you up if you sleep on him! Cut the crap and start to cut distance! Like I’ve showed you!”

To emphasize her point, she dragged me into her office after the spar, and put on the video of one of Lister’s fights. I could see how he was a dangerous opponent. The other guy had Lister against the ropes and started to hook his body from both sides. But as he did, Lister timed him, sneaking an uppercut to the guy's chin, pushed him back. While some would have gone for the kill right there, Lister was composed and picked his shots. A thinking man in the ring.

“Now, if that is you,” Freya said. “You can’t get complacent!”

Lister proceeded to knock the guy to the floor. It wasn’t the fact that Lister used that much power, but he saw his moment and took it and timed it perfectly. The guy stood up, but you could see in his eyes he wasn’t all the way there anymore.

“In the later rounds,” Freya said. “You’ll be tired. And more susceptible to do stupid shit like that. Alright?”

“Yes,” I muttered, like a boy who just got caught stealing.

“He knows how to stay calm under pressure, so we have to be smart. Don’t try to overwhelm,” Freya said. “We both know how you tend to lower your hands when you come in, especially in the later rounds.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Freya nodded. But my apology wasn’t enough. A few minutes later she had me with my hands tied behind my back against a punching bag, then she and Hope alternated punching my stomach. It was usually a drill to get used to getting hit, but when Freya chose to let girls hit me as hard as they could, it was to humiliate me. I can’t lie, I kinda liked it. Not the humiliation, that was awful.

But Hope giving me a small kiss on the cheek, telling me she loved me, then her and Freya working me over with 12 oz gloves? While it hurt my pride, and my abs and ribs, it wasn’t too bad. And it frustrated Freya too.

“Fuck, Bran!” she yelled, as both were sweating profusely.

“Want me to choke him out?” Hope suggested, with a wicked smile on her as she wiped sweat from her brow. I hung loosely from the ropes, still tied up.

“I, ugh, I suspect that, ugh, that wouldn’t phase him either,” Freya grunted, letting two hooks rip into my solar plexus.

“Hey, AUGH, I’m here, girls,” I muttered. “And I can hear you talk.”

Even Freya had to smile at that. She knew it was too deep within my core to be who I was. It was ingrained by Mel and by Hope. Happy to be along for the ride, but working as hard as I could to make the road continue. I was focused, and come fight night I’d be ready. I just couldn’t force myself to be a thirsty warmonger. Boxing was fun to me, and so was the grueling pain from all the training. Life is suffering, life is joy. I took pleasure in both.

But that didn’t stop the next twenty minutes of cosplaying as a pinata.

Per usual, Freya, this time Frank too, and I drove to Indianapolis two days before for the weigh-in, drug tests, all that stuff. At least it was not two weeks. The time apart was a cakewalk compared to last time.

What struck me as odd, was that the guy I was fighting, Lister, was utterly british. I met him at the weigh-in and from how he was en route to an American national title, I had assumed he was American. But apparently not. He was super british. And despite how viscous and stone cold he was in the ring, he was extremely nice and friendly.

Fight night came. It was the most brutal fight I had been in. I had gone the distance before, but in a six round fight, it was just different. My legs screamed, my shoulders were completely gone, and my lungs were so exhausted they were beyond fire. First round was easy enough. I knocked him down twice, and from there the plan was to blitz in and out the rest of the match, stealing rounds easily, fighting the way Lister fought, which worked briliantly. Only thing is, Lister wasn’t giving up.

In the fifth round, he caught me with a double jab. The first stunned me, the second blocked my vision so I never saw his right. I soon after did something I hadn’t done before, not in a professional fight. I landed flat on my back. While I had pretty much already won the fight, and this was the only round he won, it mentally made me tentative for the rest of the match, making it much closer on the cards than it had to be. I knew what Freya would say.

Not only that, but in the locker room after, I was dizzy and I even threw up. Yeah. I got a concussion. A light one, but still, it was putting my next fight in jeopardy, despite getting my wins. I couldn’t even remember the rest of the fight from just before I had been knocked down until way after the fight. The sixth was mine because I guess I fought on instinct, all the drills I had hammered into me protecting me. But it was a reality check certainly. I had been in the trenches before, but not like this. This one hit differently, and it hit somewhere deep in me.

“Just rest. Avoid sparring for at least two weeks. I say avoid head punches for a bit more than that, to be sure, but your coaches know the best,” the doctor said.

Mel was of course upset that I had gotten injured. It was precisely what she had been worried about when we set out on this journey. And I still had one more fight. Two actually, as the deal with Josh said they would sponsor me for five fights, and that was signed when I already had fought my first one.

“We can’t quit now,” I said, though in my heart I knew something had changed the moment I had hit the canvas, and seeing Mel upset only confirmed it for me. My confidence was gone. My heart for the game was gone. My ability to believe in my skill was gone.

“I know… I know. But I don’t have to like it,” Mel muttered, bobbing her foot impatiently as she, Hope and I sat in the living room. We had to dim the light due to my concussion symptoms, but the dampened light certainly highlighted the mood. At least my mood.

“Come on, Mom, do we have to berate him now?” Hope shot in. “He’s not operating on full capacity.”

It was true. While I would listen to every single complaint from Mel, and adhere where I could, my brain was a bit on the malfunctioning side. And my brain was also in a different sort of turmoil. They called the boxing ring for the chamber of truth. With my recent performance, I had to wonder, where did that put me? I hadn’t quit, but I sure felt like it now. From my concussion to the pain I had caused to my loved ones.

“Exactly,” Mel said, but then turned softer again. “Of course. We’re in this together, and I will of course be in your corner to see it through. You need to stay as safe as possible in there, though.”

Mel stood from her recliner, and climbed over to me on the sofa, leaning over me to gently caress me. Gently kissing my forehead and my cheeks. “I want my Bran whole.”

“Just a few more to go,” I groaned, feeling her light touch like sanctuary among the painful throbbing I felt. Even my eyes felt sore. “I’ll, ugh, be… Y’know, this is what I can learn from. I got sloppy and instantly punished for it. Now I know to focus, ugh, when my head heals.”

“I’d rather you went without that lesson,” Mel said, laying down to rest on my chest, soon joined by Hope as well.

*

I guess it was a mix of both getting knocked down and Mel’s concern in the back of my mind, but it all made me more cautious. Freya noticed too. She tried to yell it out of me, but it had come to stay. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset Mel, and even as I tried to force myself to shake it off, I knew it lingered in the back of my mind. I hesitated where I normally would’ve pounced, second guessed which defense was best for this and that attack, and so on.

I guess it does something to you. Getting knocked down, and then also getting hurt. It makes you question everything you’ve done up to that point. Was I even good at boxing? Was I the man I wanted to be? Did I fall at the first speck of resistance? I won the fight, but that knock down and the following concussion did things to me I had never really encountered in such severity. I was never the most confident guy to begin with, so maybe I wasn’t well enough equipped to deal with such push back.

It was spiraling, and it was spiraling into my training. I was never one to deal with depression, but I think I was dealing with a stint of it. I felt myself pull away and be more solemn. Almost like my old self. I was existing, floating through, and just being a gray being in my own life. Not even the main character of my own story. Like an onlooker. I felt like the young boy who traveled to Courtington to discover himself was emerging, and all my growth was slipping between my fingers. Second guessing, shelling up, and becoming a shallow version of myself. It was like the first sign of resistance had made me question myself if I really was that man.

I became sort of secluded. The little time I had apart from training, I spent with my family, but I didn’t feel like I was all the way there. Like I was a numb zombie spectating some guy named Bran who acted like he was a boxer.

I thought I saw it in Mel too. She knew I was off my game and I knew she was worried for me. Hope was worried for me. Freya was worried for me. And in turn, I was worried. I was worried I’d scare them with another concussion, that I would be injured even worse. Or that a loss would change their opinion of me. If half a victory was devastating to me, then how would a loss be? And as much as I thought about it, the worse I got in the ring. It was like a wedge that had shot into my life. Me on one side, everyone I loved on the other, forcing them away. But the more I tried to get through that wedge, it grew stronger, and the worse I became.

The length and endurance of the fighting camp didn’t help either. To address my defense, and the importance of the fight for my career, convinced Freya I had to take at least eight weeks. So with spring coming up, and the lighter weather and the lighter atmosphere, I had to watch it all slide by. I was either too tired to enjoy any of it, or busy training until I was that tired.

“You’re only gonna get fucked up worse if you keep it like this,” Frank said. Freya had some arrangement to make as the head coach, so Frank had taken over for a few days.

I was panting, with sweat pouring down my face, from a spar that had gone my way, but barely. I was nowhere on top of my game, and the fight was only getting closer. I was non-committal and unfocused. It was one of my last spars before the fight, and I still hadn’t gotten over getting injured like I had been. It was nothing like injuring my hand. I knew concussions were part of it all, but it still scared me. Especially the memory loss I had experienced. I didn’t even remember getting home from the fight. All week I had been in a slump. The 8 week program had started well, but as it all came to a close, it was like the walls were closing in again. The harder the spars, the more tentative I became. It was a dangerous trend in this business.

“Yeah. I know what you’re going through,” Hope said, having almost become a part of my coaching team by this point. She was honestly a way more talented martial artist than me, especially in BJJ, and she knew my head as well as Freya. In some ways, obviously, she knew it better. She sat down as I leaned up against a post, forcing me to look her in the eyes. “But you have to get over it, man.”

Even Hope sounded frustrated now. I felt terrible, and I wasn’t sure if continuing to force myself like this was the wise thing to do. I was no quitter, but was there any point in getting more hurt if I wasn’t even getting anything out of it?

“It’s like something is blocking me from focusing properly,” I said. “I can’t… I just can’t think straight. I just want this camp over, and for this boxing stuff to be over.”

Hope turned her frustration to sympathy as she saw my pain.

“Bran. I want you to listen to me for a second. I know what you’re doing. You don’t wanna get hurt. And you don’t wanna hurt your family by getting hurt yourself, I get that,” Hope said, sitting down next to me, leaning on the ropes as she looked at me. “But you’ve gotten to this position because of your ability. Think of why you do it. You’re doing it for mom, and you’re doing it for me. But most importantly, you’re doing it because you’ve been a fourth placer your entire life until now. Maybe you never envisioned yourself a champion, but you’re certainly mom and mine’s. Beating Carlos won’t change that. Boxing is just your vehicle. What makes you great is how you treat people.”

Hope chuckled, as she seemed to be thinking back.

“You’re strong, you’re kind, and you’ve discovered who you are. In turn, or because, I don’t know, our new life has turned for the better. In every way.” Hope nudged at me, looking at me with one of those defiant smiles. Like my bad mood was a nuisance to our happiness. That it was something we could overcome with perseverance. That it was temporary, that everything was, in fact, not terrible. All that in a smile. Who would’ve thought a cute little girl like Hope could hold so much just from the way she smiled.

“We’ve already won, Bran. Even if it doesn’t feel like it, trust me. We’ve already won. You, us, it’s why we fight in life, and we’re why you fight to keep that life going. This is just a hurdle, some resistance. A resistance you’ll overcome, because that is what life is. Fighting resistance. And you’ve fought for me, you’ve fought for Mel. And not only in that ring, and not only in terms of beating someone up. Now you have to fight this blockade that is pulling you into dangerous areas. Something went wrong, and now you gotta fight. But remember while you fight, overcoming what you gotta overcome, we’ve already won, Bran.”

I looked at her for a bit at that. In a new light. No, not new, but rather an expanding light. Like I was looking at the young girl that was Hope, but also saw the hints of the young woman she was becoming. So much wisdom, just like her mom. It made my entire being swell in pride of seeing her grow into an adult like that. Almost as if in reflex, I pulled her in for a hug, slightly startling her.

Like a lid lifted off a boiling kettle, I felt the pressure on my shoulders ease off a bit.

“Thanks,” I muttered, releasing her. I got up with her help. Both on the inside and on the outside.

“Feel better?” she asked. I could only nod.

“Think I’ll do another 15 on the heavy. I need to shake this off,” I said.

“I’ll wait in the locker room,” Hope said, giving me a smile, jumping up and heading out of the ring. I watched her ass give a slight jiggle in her workout tights as I looked after her.

Frank then hopped in, as he had probably given us a bit of space. “Ready?”

I guess I had been in some sort of rut for the last few weeks. I had barely noticed it myself, surely it had grown on me over time, but Hope’s little speech was just what I needed. Lately I have been a bit gloomy, I guess, a bit like my old self from almost a year ago. Playing second fiddle to my own existence. But I had to turn that around. The physical things were physical, and I would probably never be in better shape than I was now, at least not at 175 lbs, but what was going on now was all mental.

And the first thing to do when you recognize the things that have gotten into your head, is to address it, and talk to your loved ones. Those who care about you. Like Hope had done in the gym. So that evening, I found Mel in the kitchen. Cooking my chicken, even now. I guess I could see it on her as I came home that night. She was tired, but not only from a long night. Tired of worrying. She probably saw the mental torment I had, and it in turn affected her. It made it worse, knowing it took a toll on the people I love the most.

“Mel?” I asked. She turned and smiled. Tired, but still a smile. A smile I could both kill and die for. “I, ugh,” I said, moving over to her, unsure how to even choose the right words. “Listen, I’m sorry for being a bit mopy lately. I’ve just been in a rut, and I’ve realized it’s making you guys suffer just as much, if not more. Ever since I had that concussion I’ve been so focused on trying to do whatever it takes to not get injured again, to not worry you, and it honestly has that I’ve spiraled into this dark tunnel that I wasn’t sure how to get out of. I've grown a bit self conscious about myself. Or perhaps ‘a bit’ is an understatement. The back to back camps, then the injury, the toll it all takes… Hell, I didn’t even realize I was in it until Hope pulled me out of it.”

Mel was patient as she always was, listened until I had said my peace. “I guess I can be partly to blame,” she said. When I was about to interrupt her to tell that it was all me, she held a hand for me to be quiet. “Bran, I am worried, and I was worried. When you got injured, it was hard. And I know I perhaps should’ve not expressed it how I did. But… I think, ugh. I’m not sure how to say this. But I think it is more dangerous, even more than a concussion, if you keep all this boiled down, and disappear into a dark hole. I think it can be quite dangerous indeed.”

My heart dropped. Dangerous how? What did she mean by that? Did she mean it for us? My mouth felt dry and my voice hoarse as I spoke. “What-what do you mean dangerous?”

“Of course, a concussion is dangerous, but it goes away after a few weeks of rest. I’m no boxing expert, but if you can’t focus in the ring, that is much more dangerous. That’s when you can get hurt way worse,” Mel said. Oh god. I thought for a second…

“So we’re good? Us two?” I asked, feeling like a moron.

“What?” Mel asked, surprised. “Oh, did you think I meant dangerous for us? Oh silly,” she took my hands and kissed them, pulling me into a tight embrace, a hug of true, warm Mel quality. “Only death can take us apart. I can’t wait until we get married, Bran!”

I simply had to bury my face in her cleavage and found the type of comfort that only Mel could offer. “Sorry for being so foolish. I have been so down the last few weeks. Every time I train I feel worse, and it’s just a vicious cycle. I haven’t been thinking straight. And I guess… I don’t know, maybe I thought that maybe my bad mood lately has had an impact on… us…”

“Don’t be silly. I can assure you that I’ll love you, babe. Unconditionally. You could quit boxing tomorrow and I wouldn’t think anything less of you. I want my Bran whole, and I want him happy,” she said. “As long as you keep those pecs and those cheeks on point, you can do whatever you want. And I’m joking of course.”

“I’m so lucky,” I breathed with a sigh of relief. If the lid had lifted off before, then the pressure seemed to be all gone by now.

“You should add Hope as your mental coach or something. She seems to know what to say as a fellow fighter…” Mel said after a bit. “By the way, I’ve got a surprise for you. I was gonna wait, but I think you could use it. The very proof of our commitment to a better life.”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“Come here,” she said, taking me out to the car. The chicken could wait. Warm or cold, it didn’t matter anymore when it came to chicken.

When she drove, it took only a few moments for me to realize where we were heading. Courtington Terrace, where our new home was being built. Only when we came up… It looked almost done. My time training and resting and training and resting had made it so I had completely lost track of how the house was doing. And again, it looked almost done. Come to think of it, as little as I knew about carpenting, it looked completely done. Two floors and an attic, an attached double garage on the left side facing the street with a big gate and hedges for privacy. Standing there, it looked absolutely amazing.

“I was gonna wait until the weekend. We’re waiting for some last bits… but what do you say? Want a tour of our new home? And perhaps we can break it in?” Mel suggested, turning the heat on at the last turn of her suggestion.

“Sure. I’d love to. How long has it been like this?” I asked.

“A bit. It has come along slowly but surely. I just wanted you to focus on your stuff. But I guess it was high time. We can’t move in yet. As I said, there are a few mandatories that are still not in place,” Mel said, taking my hand and pushing open the side gate.

Immediately there was a long driveway, with grass on both sides that wrapped around the house to the back. I guess I hadn’t seen all of it from the street, but now I could make out the shapes of what was the pool area, and where we had a deck built for a potential hot tub.

I knew it was evening, but as we walked up the driveway I stared at the lawn, envisioning Mel and Hope in their bikinis, sunbathing in all of their galore. How I longed to take a walk bare feet in the grass, with no onslaught of matches in front of me. To enjoy what we had worked for. To watch Mel and Hope in the garden, join them with lemonade and revel in the warm summer.

“Does Hope know?” I asked.

“Yeah. Where is that daughter of mine, anyway?” Mel asked.

“She went for a bike ride after we showered,” I said. Hope had recently gotten a fascination for motorbikes. It suited her badassery, honestly.

“Here we are,” Mel said, opening the door for me.

The hallway was as hallways are, but as we stepped into the hall with the staircase and the doors to different parts of the room, I saw just how finished the house had become. It was truly only a matter of time before we could move in. Except the absent furniture, of course.

“Through there is a living room. Down there is the kitchen leading out back. Or, in time there will be, that is one of the things missing. Extra bathroom down there. Back there is a small hallway to both the garage and your very own in-house mini-gym if need be.”

“A gym?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yeah. Seemed practical, y’know,” Mel explained, guiding me ahead to where the kitchen should’ve been.

“Indeed, no kitchen,” I mused, feeling my foul mood vaporize as I saw this beautiful home that was all mine.  I took a closer inspection at where  the cupboards, kitchen island, counters, oven and fridge should’ve been. Marvelous. Even if there was nothing here yet, it was all Mel, Hope, and I’s. The home where we could be a family.

I looked to the far wall of the kitchen. But instead of a full wall facing the back, we had roof-to-floor sized windows and a double glass door, allowing easy access to both the pool out back and the giant lawn. Mel wasn’t done touring the house yet though. Upstairs she showed me a few guest rooms. Freya’s was the first down the hall, then an extra, another extra, one for Maia, then, at the end of the hall, we came to what I had to guess was our bedroom. Mel shoved open the door, letting me go in first.

“It’s not completely furnished yet,” Mel said, joining me in the room, moving over to the extra large king sized bed. “But we got the most important part at least. What do you say? Want to test the suspension?”

“Oh yeah,” I muttered. It wasn’t that pure animalistic lust that took hold of me, but rather the lust of a man conquering his wife-to-be in their new home.

Mel leaned back in all her glory. Even her baggy t-shirt and sweatpants couldn’t hide her delicious curves from me. Especially not when I climbed onto the bed to join her, and started to undress her and drag her pants down her long sexy legs.

I had started this fight camp in a slump that had taken me back to my old self. Mel writhing in anticipation under me reminded the young man in me of all the discoveries I had made. I was no longer that gray existence without visions or goals. I had become the man who was lucky enough to bed the otherworldly beauty that was my future wife. Through hard work, and through dedication to the ones I loved, I had become something I never knew existed within me. It was silly of me to even question any of it. Hadn’t the last nine months of my life been a constant reminder of what life had bestowed upon me? Motivated and driven on by Mel, and then later Hope?

I wanted to show Mel just how much I appreciated her, how much she meant to me. And I guess I did, as Mel moaned deliciously when I snaked my fingers under the hem of Mel’s shirt, pulled it up until her magnificent breasts were revealed to me. I was so ready for her, I needed no premeditation and neither did she, and I slipped her underwear aside before shoving myself inside her. Finding myself docked and ready, I started to slowly saw into her, sinking my face into her cleavage, feeling her silky warmth cling to my girth as I thrusted into her. My world became nothing but Mel in that moment, and it was all I needed.

“Oh god, Bran,” she whispered, wrapping her warm hands and feet around me. “We’re gonna have it so wonderful together. I just know it.”

“I can’t wait, Mel,” I whispered back.

“This bed will see so much. I hoped we could spend our wedding night here. I know that so many do the traditional hotels and the trips and all that, and while I want a honeymoon trip don’t get me wrong, I think that night I want to end up right here,” Mel said, still keeping her voice low and sensual.

“Of course. Nothing would make this bed more special,” I moaned back, moving to kiss into her neck, drawing in her scent as I felt her tightness clench me on every in-stroke. Mel always responded so wonderfully, and now was no different.

“Oh yeah. And I have many tricks to make this bed see some very special things too,” Mel teased, smiling wickedly at me. “Oh, right there. That’s a good spot.”

At her encouragement, I lowered my hips and started driving into her, hitting that spot she loved the most, merely gracing it before. It didn’t take long, nor did it have to, until we reached our mutual peaks. We sealed our lips and kissed deeply for several minutes, letting out climaxes wash over one another, and we didn’t let go until we both were spent and passed out, thus spending our first night in our new house. Breakfast in the morning was tomorrow’s trouble.

*

The last week flew by as the big fight against Carlos Fernando finally came. This was it. In front of a crowd of 10 000 in the co-main event. Though it was certainly the main event of my boxing career. I was certainly happy I had fought at the Yuengling Center before. Despite my shitty camp, by fight night I was more than eager to get in the ring. Mel and Hope had just proven too precious to me, and there was honestly nothing that could make me come down from the high I rode from having those two wonderful beings in my life. And I was thus eager. Not to get it over with, but to see if I at all belonged there at all. To live life, however it fell. I knew Carlos Fernando was the best fighter I would ever face, with a 10 and 0 record, versus my meager 4 and 0. But my rise had been a surprise to everyone from myself, to the boxing world, to James and the other promoters.

I knew the master plan was for Carlos to win, and go on to challenge for the world champion belts down the line, and be a real prospect. I knew that I was just a stepping stone in Carlos’ mind. To me, this was all my boxing had accumulated to. It wasn’t the biggest spectacle in the boxing world, nowhere close, but to me, to me personally, it was. It wasn’t even about winning anymore, it was about fighting the fight, outboxing Carlos and making a night out of it. I was guaranteed my money, but the doors a victory would unlock was untold. From what I had gathered online, I was an exciting fighter to watch. I knew I would be attractive if this went my way. The possibilities were endless if I defeated Carlos.

During the weigh-in and the face off, neither of us said much. We were focused and locked in. Carlos was a true professional in that regard. I respected him for that. The influencer I had fought was cordial, but I couldn’t call him serious. Some of the other folks on the different cards I had been on were also quite up in their own antics.

So then there I stood, ready to step out into the limelight and make the ringwalk when ‘Phil Collins - In the Air Tonight’ would start to play. Frank and Freya on one shoulder. Hope on the other.

As drums started playing I walked out, met with the cheer of the crowd. As they were all locals, and fans of the sport, a lot of them knew who I was. Long stone’s throw from the meager welcoming I had gotten in my first fight. In just a few fights, I had a few thousands cheer me as I waved my glove at the crowd, making one of those cool slow jogs down the hundred yards toward the ring. I wasn’t one to soak, but this was a big moment for me, so I took my time towards the ring. And besides, it was a good song.

As if with perfect timing, when Phil Collins sang ‘I've been waiting for this moment for all my life’ I made the steps, and with a last wave and cheer from the crowd, I ducked into the ring. I was shaking in anticipation by now, awaiting the final hour. But this was why we had placed Hope in my corner as well. We knew now my head could get all wrapped in itself, and her being here was just as much a coach as a mental reminder. Mel didn’t want to, as she was worried she’d drag me out of there. Hope was more in a fighter’s mentality in that respect. It was a dynamic we had learned to respect.

“You’re doing great,” Hope said, placing her hands on my shoulders so I would focus on her and not on either Carlos nor the crowd. “Remember, you’re a champ. No matter what. There’s no resistance you can’t overcome.”

We exchanged a small kiss, to the cheers of the few who had noticed, as Carlos started to make his way down. He looked impressive as always. He was a bit taller than me, and while I was more powerful and perhaps a bit faster on my feet, I knew he was a more natural light heavyweight. While I had taken my time to soak the moment in like a spunge, Carlos made his way with decent pace, even nodding to me as he walked past me to join his corner.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen for your co-main event of the evening. Introducing our first contender, our local rising star fighting out of the blue corner, standing at 5 foot 7 with a 70 inch reach, weighing in at 175 lbs sharp, he’s fighting coming into this fight with a perfect record of 4 and 0, 3 of which coming by the way of knock out, Braaandooon ‘No Answer’ Langley!” the announcer yelled into the microphone, making me sound so cool and important, as the crowd cheered.

I turned to give a wave. But as he started on Carlos, I once again turned to Hope, who seemed to have something to say.

“You gonna take our name, or mom yours?” Hope asked. “When you get married?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking yours, probably. Iocasta sounds cooler, and it was she who proposed, so I guess it makes sense,” I replied.

“Would you two get a room, already?!” Freya said through gritted teeth.

“We will. After. And feel free to join,” Hope chuckled, but made her way out regardless, so Freya could give me some final words.

“Alright. You need to box in this one. Last time, you fell asleep. Not this time. Pick your shots, duck and chuck. He doesn’t expect you to have a good jab, so use the jab. You’ve dropped him before, you can do it again,” Freya said urgently. “See what he does, but don’t give him anything. Don’t be stupid, okay?”

I nodded, as the ref motioned for the corners to clear out. And so it was. I looked across to the very focused Carlos. He was locked in. The world shrunk down to just him and me. The bell went and Carlos immediately started to rotate to his left. He wasn’t going to be the first to engage, instead, he held his left out to measure whatever I was doing.

Author’s note: A bunch of boxing ahead.

Undeterred, I blitzed in. I ducked under his lightning quick jab and threw my own to his gut. Carlos knew it before I did, and his left came down for a lead hook to my temple. Luckily, I was moving away from the shot, but I felt his quickness and it stung. I bolted back as his straight right shot above my head, and I clinched. Fuck. I think that was the first time I ever initialized the clinch.

“Break!” the ref called, and we did.

Carlos had won the exchange, but didn’t seem too eager to do anything more about it. He stuck behind his jab, and everytime I tried he hit me with three shots on my way in, with only one of them missing. And just like that, the round was over. A bunch of feeling out, a few exchanges where Carlos obviously got the better of me.

“Bran. You’re too predictable with your jab coming in. Feint it, double it, or move your head to the left, or pivot further to your right, but whatever you do, don’t keep your head on the right side. He’s sneaky, but he catches your timing everytime, and soon you gonna move into his left hook,” Freya yelled as the loud music between rounds roared. “Jab, slip to your right instead, moving towards but under his left hook. Keep him guessing. Now get out there.”

Freya had certainly found the hole in my attack. When the second round started, I saw he took a more aggressive approach. He jabbed, I ducked to my right, but instead of throwing a cross and moving my head where his left hook would catch it, I paused and took a small half-step to my right, seeing his fast hook shoot right in front of my eyes.

But with doubling up his left like that, he was completely open. So I threw a rear uppercut to his ribs, followed by a hook, and by the time he moved an elbow in the way and pivoted to make me eat his right, I had rolled to my left. Now his entire left side was open. Double-hook, then an overhand landing square on his chin. Carlos crumbled and keeled over.

I did it! I knocked him down! Already! This was going to be easy! Carlos beat the count, as he always did, being a true fighter through and through. But instead of letting me get another chance to knock him down, or out, he shelled up, pivoted, blocked and jabbed, doing everything to keep me at a distance.

“You got him on the ropes now,” Freya said, during the one-minute break. She couldn’t hide her excitement now. She saw the light piercing through the clouds. “Keep it mixed up. He has a good jab, but I think you can still make him tentative and hesitant. Never do the same thing twice coming in, or if you do, keep it varied enough so he never knows where to stick his defense. But remember to not exhaust yourself. This is eight rounds!”

But Carlos had learned from his mistakes. Instead of wallowing in self-pity like I had done against Lister, he listened to his team and cleaned up. He never once let me get inside again. He had tried to trade with me in the second round, but learned that was not how to win this match. Everytime I moved in, he’d bolt back, throwing fast, stinging uppercuts, lead hooks, and jabs. They weren’t the hardest punches, but now it was me who was running out of ideas. I’d land a left hook, or a straight, or another power punch here and there, even a jab, but he’d meet every punch I threw with another two.

In the corner, between rounds, Freya tried to talk sense into me, but as soon as I tried to apply my instructions, it felt futile. I’d move to either side of my jab, but Carlos either found me, or found a way to make me miss. He never applied too much pressure either. Discipline was his main talent, I quickly learned. When I didn’t attack, trying to counter him, he was breaking the rhythm with his jab, and I more than once had to clinch just to get a break. Of course, I had my moments where I caught him good, but Carlos was able to situate himself and defend himself masterfully.

While I had won the second round, I felt fairly certain I had lost all the other rounds except that one. So as I sat on my stool before the 8th but final round, I was both tired and frustrated. Carlos was tired too, but he had only taken half the damage I’d taken. He displayed an intermediate course in boxing, to be honest.

I saw Freya think for a second before she spoke. Like she was contemplating how to get me going. No amount of tactic had worked, outboxing this guy was impossible for me. Not at this level, at least. But Freya seemed to find her appeal.

“This is it, Bran. You have to turn this around now. You’re far behind so you know what to do, get this fucker outta here. You’ve boxed with this guy for some seven rounds, now it’s time to turn this into a fight. You need to fuck him up, and show him who’s the strong one. I want you to go out there and show everyone who showed up tonight that Bran ‘No Answer’ Langley doesn't give up. That despite it looking like a loss right now, he turns it around! Just think about all the fourth places! How many times have you tried and done just enough? Settled for the middle ground while others went on to win? Think about every time someone picked you mid to last in the ball court! Think about how life is tough on the mediocre guy, but no matter what, this guy, you Bran, this guy doesn't give up! Come on Bran, fuck the strategy and go fuck him up!”

I knew it was true. We tried to box while I really should've turned it into a fight. It is perhaps weird to have admiration for someone who was severely beating you, but this was a masterclass of boxing, where Carlos showed the world, and me, how good he was, despite having faced the canvas earlier.

The ref urged Freya out of the ring and as I met Carlos again in the ring I didn't let time go to waste. Carlos went for his stinging jab and cross. I parried the first punch while rolling under the other. Carlos followed up with a lead hook. I jumped the line on which punches I usually threw in this position, instead I punched straight to the stomach, stunning him from the unexpected impact. I then pivoted to my left, making his hook-and-jab miss, and hooked him to the head and body. Carlos immediately clinched, panting in my ear.

"The fuck is this? Where this come from?" he gasped.

"Break!" The ref yelled, separating us.

I immediately went for a one-two, only I feinted my cross, ducked to my right and again worked his body. He tried to throw an uppercut as I moved, but I used my feet to pull back and quickly pounce back in with another left hook followed by a hard overhand right. Carlos buckled and fell to one knee.

"Bran! He's fucked! Dont let him off!" I heard Freya yell.

Carlos met the count. I had to give it to him, he could really come back from barrages. I had seen it in the amateurs and in the second round. All heart. He was not only a good, slick boxer, but I saw in his face the heart of a champion as he gritted his teeth to meet the ref’s count. But I knew time was of the essence to get this done. Three knockdowns or a knockout would be enough.

Carlos double-jabbed to keep me away, but I slipped left and right while pressing forward. He knew I smelled blood because he was already wrapping up my hands to clinch, but I threw my left hook and straight right before he got a hold of me. He stumbled back so I cut the ring off while I tried to give as many rear hooks to the body as possible. Carlos turned back the other way, just so I could shove my left into his face. Carlos swung his right out and clocked me in the face. Now it was my turn to stumble back, but as Carlos stepped forward I ducked under his vicious left and fired off consecutive hooks to his kidney. Carlos for a second time went down!

“ONE MORE! ONE MORE!” I heard Freya yell excitedly.

After beating the count yet another time, I saw Carlos duck his chin low, mustering whatever strength he had left to stay up. I knew this was my moment, but I also knew he was picking up his faults as quickly as I exploited them. I feinted a jab and threw a left hook. Carlos stepped back and immediately shot forward with a stiff jab landing right above my eye. I caught his following right on my glove and was forced to clinch to ease off the pressure. As we broke I threw another left hook, this time followed with a rear uppercut. Carlos grunted but stumbled out of range, maintaining it with a sharp jab. Even now. And just like that the bell rang.

Even knocking him down twice in the last round, and winning the second round, I had a mental image of how the scorecard had gone. Not in my favor. But I wasn’t sad. Nor unhappy. I was relieved it was over, despite it probably not going my way. Carlos had beat me fair and square, and honestly, he was a damn good boxer. I was damn near proud to have been in the ring with him. I held no ill will towards him, after all, he brought me this opportunity in the first place. Going out with a bang like I did, was certainly icing on the cake, though. I knew I lost, but like the wise lady once said; I had already won. We had already won.

The ref took both Carlos’ wrist and mine so we would hear the final scoring. I could hear him wince and pant all the way over here. At least I gave him a fight, even if it was too little too late. The announcer took his microphone and announced the final scores. I knew it was way closer on points than it really was. Carlos had dominated the fight.

“The judges scored the bout equal, 75 to 74, in favor of our victor tonight, and the still undefeated CARLOS FERNANDO GARCIA!”

I turned to give the victor a hug. “Well fought,” he grunted as we disengaged.

But I wasn’t done. In the spur of the moment, I quickly hoisted Carlos up in the air like Freya had done so many times before with me, and carried him around the ring for a victory lap, before plumping him down. I turned to my corner, more than ready to get my hands unwrapped and to get out of here. However, Carlos was busy himself with his own gloves, so I soon felt an unexpected arm wrap around me as the in-ring interviewer wanted some words from me it seemed.

“Bran ‘No Answer’ Langley. Carlos is drinking a well-deserved sip of water so we’ll talk with you first. You brought it on in the last round, but it was sadly a bit too late. How do you feel? Do you have any thoughts?” he asked.

"I might not be the winner in this, nor perhaps in many things in life, and I might never be a world champion or anything, but I feel like a champ every day I come home to my beautiful family. I never expected any of this, but I do it for them. My girl and I are getting married soon, we just got a new house. Maybe I lost, but life is good. Carlos deserves this, and he’ll hear it from me first; congratulations on the win," I said, hearing my voice echo against the arena.

The crowd immediately roared up, clapping like crazy as Carlos was coming over, so I grabbed his hand, and held it up for the crowd. I could tell through the bruises he was happy, just perhaps in too much pain to utter it correctly. I gave him a few small claps as well before I turned away, ready to exit the boxing world for a little bit, and went over to Freya. I didn’t wanna linger around, especially not steal any sort of moment from Carlos’ well-earned victory, as I heard how the crowd responded to his victory.

“The fuck you doing?” Freya asked as I made to move out the ring. “Wave?”

Just then did I realize it wasn’t Carlos they applauded, but rather myself.

“What did I do?” I asked, perplexed. But Freya grabbed me at the shoulders and turned me back towards the crowd. I awkwardly waved at each side of the room before turning back to Freya. “Okay, let’s get outta here.”

*

I guess the clip of me hoisting up Carlos after losing, carrying him around, giving the little end speech there, and applauding his victory went slightly viral. Hope had shown me several clips of people adding all kinds of inspirational music. Maybe I should care more, but as I stood in our brand new kitchen a few days later, six in the morning, only something high-carb was on my mind.

I hadn’t had Mel’s delicious homemade pasta in half a year due to all the back-to-back boxing camps. But the last few days I had stuffed nothing but the most savory food in my face. And thank god Mel made copious amounts, because if there’s one thing I love it’s the food she made. It tasted like the caring woman she was. And lo and behold, a bowl of bolognese, sitting there waiting for me. I grabbed it and threw it in the microwave, eager to fill my stomach with it.

“You know what I’ve missed? These months?” an oh so familiar voice said behind me. I turned and saw Mel in her red silky robe, leaning against the open door frame. “You coming downstairs in the morning, all groggy and sleepy like now, and find yourself a plate of leftovers, humming satisfyingly as you savor the taste of the home cooked meal I made you. Totally unprovoked, pure, and so instinctually enjoying something I made.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I excused.

“So you came down to eat food that I put effort into to make good, like some hungry man-beast,” Mel concluded, smiling warmly, her eyes trailing to my naked chest. “I’m glad. I find it wholesome. Well, I’m going back to bed. I just wouldn’t miss it.”

My eyes never left her long legs, nor how the silky robe fell in between her cheeks, allowing just enough of a display of her curves. I couldn’t help but smile as I knew that woman right there, and everything that came with her, was mine.

*

Thanks for readng, I hope you enjoyed.