The wrestling practice was over. All the boys had left. Coach was putting away the mats. His muscles rippled as he handled them with little effort. He looked real good. I was sweeping the floor trying to keep my eyes off him. He was around 30 and had sandy hair and wore glasses. He wore a yellow striped t-shirt, and faded levis, which hung low on his hips. It was very difficult to concentrate on sweeping I can tell you. His chest was well defined, and his belly was almost flat. His abs were very highly defined, and their ridges and grooves showed even through the shirt. Every once in a while he would straighten up and doing so would tighten his belly making it slightly concave. He would also tighten up his abs making them even more visible under the shirt. He would rub his belly with the flat of his hand, and fondle his navel with his finger tips. What an invitation I thought. I noticed he would direct a quick glance in my direction every once in a while. I kept sweeping, working my way toward him. When I was fairly close he asked; "How bout giving me a hand with this big mat." "Sure," I responded. As he went to get to the other end of the mat, he raised his arm to adjust his cap. I couldn't resist, and drove my fist into his unsuspecting belly, right at the navel. I felt my fist drive deep into his body. The blow was so sudden that his guts had no time to slide out from under my fist, and absorbed the full impact of the blow. He folded over my fist, his eyes bulged out, and he gasped. I jerked my fist out of his body, holding his shoulder to keep him upright. You could see the waves of pain wash over his open mouthed face. I was fascinated as the pit left by my fist slowly filled in. "Is that what you had in mind," I asked. He leaned forward, holding his stomach, stared at me, made a slight turn away from me, took two short stumbling steps, and sank to his knees, doubled over in pain. It was fantastic to see. The way it felt for my fist to sink into him. I remember feeling his flat navel surrounded by its hard little ring through the t-shirt. But mostly I remember the look on his face, his glassy eyes, and the open mouth, kind of like a fish out of water. He gasped out, "it was just the way I thought it would be."
I had hit him as hard as I could because I knew he really wanted it. I was aroused watching him deal with the pain. He slowly got up and still leaning forward and rubbing his belly began to come toward me. He didn't look angry. I knew I had a hot one here, and if he wanted a fight, he had found the right guy. As I went to go on with my sweeping, he said "wait, wait a minute." "That was unreal; I was hoping you would punch me." He continued to massage his belly. "I wanted to know what your fist in my guts would feel like." "Did you like the feel of doing it? He asked." "I like to fight," I said, "so it was all in a days work for me". "You want more, I asked." "yeah, go for it, he said." "You got it" I said "you just stand there and we'll see how much you can take." He stood there, hands at his sides, waiting for me to hit him. I put my hand on his shoulder and drew back my fist, then drove it as hard as I could into his navel. Once again my fist went in surprisingly deep, meeting little muscular resistance. I was expecting hard abs. I could feel his muscles, but they were not very hard. Instead I felt his guts being savagely smashed by my fists. The look on his face was fantastic. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, his face was very pale, and his head was angled back. I could see the waves of pain he was enduring on his face. He nodded to me that he wanted another, so I obliged him, burying my fist to the wrist in his guts below the navel. Once again there was no resistance of abdominal muscles. I wrenched my fist out of his body, and again watched as his intestines filled the depression left by my fist, and the look of pain in his eyes as it spread in waves from deep within him.
He placed his hands on my shoulders to assist him to stay upright. His eyes said "harder, harder." I knew then that he was going to be a great receiver. Hard core into being gut punched, and wanted me to continue. It was also obvious by now that he was deliberately keeping his abs relaxed for maximum effect. That was ok with me, because I could gain maximum depth penetration. His belly was still pretty flat, and I planted my fists hard and deep into his quivering body. His legs started to shake, and he began to drool at the mouth. He uttered a sort of cry with each blow. I circled his navel with devastating blows, and found that the slightly concave area below his navel was his sweet spot. Driving my fist in there caused shuddering spasms to over his whole body. It was very hot to both feel it and watch the results. I punched him on either side of his navel. I punched him just above the navel where his large intestine ran across his body. It was so cool to feel his large intestine slide upward under my fist. Each blow produced a low moan, and I could see on his face the mounting pain, but also his determination to go on and on receiving.
Finally I just concentrated on his sweet spot. Blow after blow below the navel, made him gasp and cry out. He had long since become very aroused, and his genitals were fully inflated and tightly encased in his jeans. His belly was very soft and my fist sank in to full depth with each blow finding bottom against his spine. His intestines crushed between my fist and his spine had nowhere to go and would be battered to the edge of endurance. He didn't seem to care, having arrived at that point in his beating where the pain got no worse, but was a steady wave after wave of all enveloping ecstasy. He could feel each fist enter his body, but the pain already present just continued and got no worse.
Soon I knew he was punch drunk, in that he didn't care what happened to him anymore. He received each of my devastating blows longingly. By this time I had to hold him up against the pommel horse located in the gym not far from the mats. I leaned him back against the horse slightly bent back. His sweet spot was fully exposed, and his abs muscles were no protection at all now. I buried my fist time after time. His guts began making gurgling sounds with each blow. I could see his intestines sliding around under the tightly stretched skin and muscles of his stomach. I paused and asked him if he wanted me to continue. He just looked at me with that desperate and longing look, a look that begged for more pain and abdominal destruction.
I decided to give him what he wanted so badly. I punched into his quivering guts time after time. My fist was bottoming out each time I hit him, and his head began to loll from side to side. His tongue was hanging out and he was drooling badly. He became so punch drunk that he couldn't stand even assisted anymore. He fell forward on me with his arms over my shoulders. I kept punching into him as hard as I could. His guts were squishy, and his belly bulged out each time I withdrew my fist. Finally, I thought he had had enough. I laid him out on the mat. He writhed and moaned, and took shallow breaths while recovering. I knelt down and massaged his aching guts. He kept moaning and saying "man oh man," Over and over. He thanked me for the workout. "Not a problem," I said. "Anytime." "You mean it," he said. I said "hell yes, I have always wanted to beat the shit out of a tough guy. This was more fun than a real fight."
Part two of this story is told from the view of the receiver.
The Coach (part two)
by Gutache (as the coach tells it)
The wrestling practice was over. All
the boys had left. It was my job as coach to put away the mats. I could feel
and see my muscles ripple as I piled the mats against the wall of the gym.
The Janitor was busy sweeping the floor. He was around 30 and looked pretty
rough. I had on a yellow striped t-shirt, and faded levis, which hung low
on my hips. I let them hang low because I liked the feel and it allowed my
abs to show.
As I wrestled with one of the heavy mats, one of the corners poked into my belly. It was strange, but I liked the way it felt. It was not the same as punching or jabbing myself, something I did often at home. I could see that the janitor was watching me, and having a hard time concentrating on his sweeping. His chest and arms were very muscular and well defined, and his body looked real solid. Every once in a while I would straighten up and doing so would tighten my belly making it slightly concave. I would also flex my abs making the tight definition even more pronounced. I noticed he would direct a quick glance in my direction when I did it. My thoughts wandered to what it would be like to have that guy really work my belly. Not him, I thought, he is just a working stiff. He kept sweeping, working his way toward me. He looked good, real good. I rubbed my belly with the flat of my hand, and slowly massaged my navel with my fingers, secretly wishing that this guy would work over my gut. I had always fantasized about what it would be like to be taken right to the edge of endurance. When he was fairly close I asked; "How bout giving me a hand with this big mat." "Sure," he responded, flashing a big smile. As I walked by him to get to the other end of the mat, I couldn't resist looking at him. He looked very hard and tough. I reached up to adjust my cap and without any warning he drove his fist as hard as he could into my un-tensed belly, right at the navel. I felt his fist drive deep into my body. The blow was so sudden that my guts had no time to slide out from under his fist, and absorbed the full impact of the blow. I folded over his fist, and gasped. I felt the sudden sharp pain followed seconds later by the waves of pain as it washed over me from deep within my body. He jerked his fist out of my belly, and held my shoulders to keep me upright. "Is that what you had in mind," he said, flashing that smile again. I opened my mouth and gagged. I felt my intestines slowly fill in the pit left by his fist. I leaned forward, holding my stomach, stared at him, made a slight turn away from him, took two short stumbling steps, and sank to my knees, doubled over in pain. I felt like I was really hurt. The pain slowly subsided while he watched. It was cool to feel his fist to sink deep into my body. It was cool the way the sharp pain of the initial blow was followed by a deeper more intense pain that seemed to build. "That was just the way I always expected it would feel, I gasped.
He had hit me as hard as he could because
he knew I wanted it. He was aroused watching me deal with the pain. I slowly
straightened up and still leaning slightly forward rubbed my belly. "That
was intense man," I gasped out. I was hoping you would do that."
I continued to massage my navel. "You were asking for it," he said.
"All that fondling your navel, rubbing your belly, and tightening your
abs." "I know you liked it?" I told him it really hurts, but
it was pretty much what I thought it would be like. He just smiled. "You
want me to work me over good?" he asked, still smiling. "lets see
how much punishment you can take." "you just stand there and you
as much as you can take." I stood there, hands at my sides, waiting for
him to hit me. I teased him with a little stomach muscle flexing. I decided
no matter what, I would not tense up my abs. He put his left hand on my shoulder.
"You ready," he said. Without waiting for a reply he drew back,
then drove his fist as hard as he could into my navel. Once again his fist
went in surprisingly deep, I was relaxed. He was expecting hard abs. I felt
my guts being savagely smashed by his fists. My mouth was open, and I was
gasping. I could feel the waves of burning pain building on each other, and
was determined to take it. I wanted it. I wanted more. I nodded to him that
I wanted much more, so he obliged me, burying his fist to the wrist in my
pulsating guts well below the navel. Again I offered no resistance to his
blows. He wrenched his fist out of my body, and again I felt my guts sliding
back into place, and the pain, it was so intense. It seemed to build wave
upon wave. I wanted him to stop, but the desire to feel his fists in my body,
and the incredible pain made me want more and more.
He placed his hands on my shoulders again, to assist me to stay upright. I know my eyes said "harder, harder." He knew that I was now and forever into being gut punched, and wanted him to deliver it to me in spades. It was also obvious to him by now that I was deliberately trying to keep abs un-flexed for maximum penetration and pain. My belly was still pretty flat, and he planted his fists hard and deep into my quivering body. I moaned, gasped, my legs started to shake, and I began to drool at the mouth. He circled my navel with devastating blows, and found that the slightly concave area below my navel was my sweet spot. Driving his fist in there caused shuddering spasms to spread over my whole body. He punched me on either side of my navel. He punched me just above the navel where my large intestine ran across my body. I felt it inside me being driven upward out from under this fist. This caused an especially violent wave of pain. At each blow I cried out, then gritted my teeth. The pain grew steadily more intense, but something made me determined to go on and on receiving his power punches.
Finally he just concentrated on my sweet spot. It wasn't quite so flat now, but was instead a little rounded. He delivered blow after blow below the navel, making me gag and wretch. I had long since become very aroused, and my genitals were tightly encased in my jeans. my belly was very soft and his fist sank in to full depth with each blow finding bottom against my spine. My intestines crushed between his fist and my spine had nowhere to go and were battered to the edge of endurance. I didn't even care, having arrived at that point in my beating where the pain got no worse, but was a steady wave after wave of all enveloping ecstasy. I could feel each fist enter my body, but the pain already present and very intense, a sort of burning searing pain, just continued and got no worse.
Soon he knew I was punch drunk, in that I didn't care what happened to me anymore. I received each of his devastating blows longingly. By this time He had to hold me up against the pommel horse located in the gym not far from the mats. He leaned me back against the horse slightly bent back. My sweet spot was fully exposed, and my stomach muscles, so hot to look at, were no protection at all now. He drove his fist into me time after time. My guts began making gurgling sounds with each blow. He paused and asked me if I wanted him to continue. I guess I just looked at him with that desperate and longing look, a look that begged for more pain and abdominal destruction.
He shrugged, and got a cruel look on his face proceeded full force with what I wanted so badly. He punched into my quivering guts time after time. His fist was bottoming out each time he hit me. I became so punch drunk that I couldn't stand even assisted anymore. I fell forward on him with my arms over his shoulders. He kept punching into my guts as hard as he could. My intestines were squishy, and my belly bulged out each time he withdrew his fist, the muscles no longer able to properly contain them. Finally, he thought I had had enough. I had gotten to the end of endurance, where much more could have been deadly. He laid me out on the mat. I writhed and groaned, taking very shallow breathes while recovering. I kept moaning and remember saying over and over "man oh man."
When I had finally recovered enough, he massaged my aching guts. I thanked him for his effort. "Not a problem," he said, "anytime." "You mean it," I said. "Sure." He said, "I have always wanted to beat the shit out of a tough guy."