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The Futa Boxing Gym

By Moctezuma Johnson



Copyright © 2017 by Moctezuma Johnson

Smashwords Edition

SPANKable Productions / Girls Carrying Books / ComeMiPolla Press


This eBook is the work of Moctezuma Johnson and Girls Carrying Books and as such is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient (or email Moctezuma Johnson with any special requests). If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting author copyrights.


This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons and/or candies, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.



 

FUTA Boxing Gym – Fukuoka Japan 

by Moctezuma Johnson


Ines never really wanted to be a prostitute but she was from a poor family. She always wanted to travel and see the neon lights of Asia. Even growing up in the barrio in Caracas, she knew she would end up in one of these clean, shining, Japanese streets. Sometimes an end justifies a means. So fucking for money was just something she did. She was young, she was hot, and it was the only asset she could trade up her life with. She was trading up. Being in Tokyo, Japan was way better than being back home in the makeshift shanty town with dirty floor, a rickety lightbulb hanging with no shade and powered from a circuit of stolen power her brothers braided into the barrio. Her brothers were old enough that their friends would probably have gotten Ines pregnant by now and she’d be nursing a baby. Instead, tonight she was nursing a business man with too much power and money. Prostitution was illegal here, but not in this one building called Cherry Blossom City. This business man asked Ines to penetrate his ass with a big dildo. After she made his mangina cum, he cuddled with her and sucked on her nipples like a baby while she used her phone to search a local boxing gym.


Cherry Blossom City

When Japanese Imperialism was spreading out in the 1920s under the slogan “Enrich the Country, Strengthen the Armed Forces” there were a lot of war crimes committed. During this era, it was the idea of Masahiro Koruka to form an independent building free from the rules of normal Japanese society and make that building a political island to itself where Rest and Relaxation, as the Big Nosed Westerners called it, could be had by all as long as anyone had the money to buy drinks, girls, boys, transgenders, futas, or whatever did it.


Futanari Boxing Gym

It was the first hit in google under Japanese Boxing Gym. Strangely there was no other entry, just the one. It was like finding this gym was the only purpose for Ines to travel to Japan, to join the Cherry Blossom City prostitution ring, and to search the internet while a business man with a dildo in his ass suckled her sore nipples. What was he doing down there? She looked and saw he was nibbling on them with his teeth.

“Cut that out. It hurts,” she said, scooping her big golden brown breasts into her hand and returning them to the safe confines of her “clubwear”–a gold and baby blue plunging neckline one-piece dress. The outfit was a gaudy piece somewhere between cheerleader, schoolgirl, and roaring 20s burlesque dancer. It really belonged to no era except the current times of cheap internet shopping. Ines looked childishly sexy in it, and her pimp thought it was fucking stupendous so she had no choice but to wear it. She couldn’t wear a bra in it, and she felt like her tits were constantly falling out. This was very annoying when her nipples hurt thanks to some spoiled executive biting them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kenji Ryu, manager of Saitonara Corportation, said as he counted out a few bills to hand to Ines. “Your Venezuelan body just drives me crazy. It’s like chicken browned to perfection, the perfect hue of gold. Like your breasts are gold coins from the times of Ceasar.”

“Okay okay, it’s okay that you bit me. Calm down. You don’t have to compare my breasts to Roman emporors. They’re just pechuga.”

“Pechuga?”

“Breasts, in my language.”

“Oppai. Hai,” said Mr. Ryu. He blinked and bowed his head three times really quickly.

Ines thought the Japanese were always bowing. She liked it. She took the money he handed her. It was her turn to bow. She didn’t bow quickly. That would be disrespectful which was a huge social faux pas around here. Ines was careful to clasp both her hands together at her waist and perform a slow, deep bow by contracting her abdominal muscles. This resulted in a bow that made her chest face the ground, her legs and torso made a perfect ninety degree angle. Ines had been practicing. Mr. Ryu was quite satisfied with this show of respect.

He put the dildo on the table where Ines had carefully cut kiwis, bananas, and tomatoes and served with cute little toothpicks on an old-fashioned Japanese wooden serving plate. “You keep it for next time,” Mr. Ryu instructed her.

“Of course, sir,” Ines said. “Whatever you’d like.”

“Take care of yourself, Ines,” he said thoughtfully before opening the door and leaving her little room in Cherry Blossom City.

Ines went back to the phone and opened google maps to locate this Futa Boxing Gym. She was done for the night. She had cash. It was boxing time.


Inside Futa Boxing Gym

The place was behind a Family Mart convenience story, something like Asia’s 7-11. Ines entered a doorway that led to a staircase. However, there was another doorway on the side that opened into one big room with a ring in the center. As soon as Ines opened the door the loud hip-hop music blared around her. On the right were a line of heavy bags. On the left were speed bags. Behind the ring were a series of rowing machines and a white bench with weights in primary colors. There was a table with bottles of baby oil, some math text books, a television with a video game console wired to it, and a big fan. Circular lights hung from the ceiling. The ring was all dark gray from ropes to floor.

Keiko was jumping up and down, skipping rope between the ring and the rowing machines. She was admiring herself in the wide mirror. Then the unthinkable happened.


The Bout

Before I tell you about that let me explain that she was jumping rope and her big bimbo breasts were bouncing absurdly yet sexily. The rope was special FUTA rope. It was the rope, made from material only found on the Planet Futonia, that made these boxers special.


The Unthinkable

1:09 A.M. — Ines watched Keiko jump rope. Her black hair flew up and down. Her big boobs also rocked up and down as the rope spun around her again and again. Beautiful, feminine Keiko had another part of the sexy package jumping. In her white boxing trunks a huge cock was also flopping about as she jumped rope and Ines couldn’t help but stare. Ines preferred women but, as a prostitute, she had to admit that a big cock could be quite beautiful and satisfying.

This Keiko has the best of both worlds, Ines thought. Ines was incredibly turned on and a little jealous at the same time.


The more unthinkable

1:29 a.m. — Keiko had finished her rope time and was now on the heavy bag.

Another woman who looked like an older version of Keiko watched Ines for a while before saying, “First time here?” Ines timidly nodded. “Grab anything you like. First time is free. Let you get a feel for the place.”

Ines picked up the rope that Keiko had discarded on the floor. There was something so sensual about the rope. It was a similar sensory overload like the first time that Ines had smelled all the leather in the heavy metal biker shop in Caracas. The feel of the rope transported her back into her memories. She suddenly remembered her first kiss. It was supposed to be with a cute boy in Simon Bolivar Park under a Laurel Tree where they always hung out but the boy got shy and insisted on touching her breasts as a way to back out of kissing her. She and her friend, Joya, were all geeked up on first kiss. Ines felt there was no turning back. She let her fingers run through Joya’s curly hair and caressed her neck sensually as she simultaneously got closer and closer to Joya’s lips. She couldn’t bring herself to touch Joya’s lips. Ines’s heart was beating too hard! “Kiss me already, motherfucker!” Joya said to Ines. Their lips met and then their tongues came out like the sun on a rainy day. The kiss was awesome. Bridges literally crumbled into the sea that day and Ines knew right then and there that she was a lesbian. There was no denying it. Something about this rope from the Futa Boxing Gym sent the sweet nostalgia of her first kiss coursing through her. She felt it in her eyes, which teared up, she felt it in her heart, which cracked with sadness, and she felt it in her loins, which sprinkled with humidity.

As soon as Ines thought about the rope’s power over her, she felt its full power course through her. The rope was otherworldly. Ines got a boost of sweet sunshine like the first wave of LSD had hit her. She saw herself in the big mirror that filled the entire wall. She looked sexy as hell jumping rope. Her blonde hair jumped. Her breasts shimmied. Her thick ass shook. Ines looked like a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, the kind where the chocolate is still gooey.

Ines noticed Keiko was watching her. Their eyes met for a moment and electricity shivered through Ines. She wanted to kiss Keiko badly, just like the day of Ines’s first kiss in Simon Bolivar Park. Then Keiko’s eyes traveled downward. Ines also looked down in that involuntary way that someone’s eyes can have over you.

Ines had one more juicy piece of her body flopping. Cock. She stopped jumping and the rope whipped the back of her sexy golden-brown legs.

“Don’t stop,” said Keiko confidently. “I was enjoying watching you!” Keiko have a broad smile and the corners of her eyes wrinkled.

“But…I have a…where did this come from?” Ines couldn’t make a proper sentence. Between the intimidation of a great looking girl speaking to her and the newfound genitalia between her legs, Ines was stumped.

Ines grabbed her big cock. It felt warm. It felt like it wanted to go for a dip in a wet pool. Ines eyed Keiko lasciviously.

“Do you have both cock and pussy?” Ines asked Keiko.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Keiko slipped into the ring under the ropes and then popped up athletically. She started jumping up and down. It was a challenge.

Ines smiled and climbed up between the ropes, bending her back to crawl between the ropes. The two gorgeous women stared at each other. The gym was full of other people by heavy bags, speed bags, chatting, lifting weight, mixing loud music on the turntables, smoking cigars, shooting steroids, playing video games, and deducing physics anomalies. It was your typical Asian FUTA Boxing Gym.


The Bout

When the two girls got in the ring and stared at each other, the DJ scratched the record one two three times four and started a new bit with Run DMC’s “Down with the King” but every time DMC got to the word King it was scratched out and replaced with Bowie saying the word Queen. The atmosphere was live, loud, and tense. The volume was rising. Music changed everything. People stopped what they were doing to watch this stare down. It was hot. Fans whirred. Sweat dripped down Keiko’s Boozy Japanese cleavage. El sudor se cayó de escote Venezolano de Ines.

The MC got on the mic. “One three minute round. First one to pin wins. Betting permitted. Baby oil bottles on the table first come first served. Quants will calculate odds.”

Keiko leaned in close to Ines. Ines got the wrong idea and her lips parted slightly. Keiko japped her in the face. The jab split Ines’s pretty red lip. Keiko squinted at Ines to size up her reaction and  said, “If you pin me you can put your new package in me!”

1:57 a.m. — Keiko was an incredible boxer: fast as a Mountain Jaguar, vicious as a Wall Street Banker, powerful as a Mom. Keiko maneuvered around the ring expertly. Her bimbo tits bounced and made it look like she was too big to move fast, but that was all a ruse. It was an optical illusion.

She was quick as lightning, fist heavy as a brick.

She was so bad, she made medicine sick.

Ines was no joke either. Back in Caracas she took down just about every Latina in a 250 km radius. She even took down dudes who were fronting all that macho bullshit these Latino guys could get hyped up on.

However, on this weird night in the Futa Boxing Gym, Keiko quickly boxed Ines out and was able to land a few punches and trip Ines down to the mat. Ines felt like she should have done better with all her boxing pedigree, but Keiko was more of a mixed martial artist, and Ines kept getting caught between trying to bust Keiko’s ass and trying to fondle her gently. Once Ines was on the ground, her frustration shot through her. She should have known better. The crowd hooted and hollered. It was raucous in there. And Keiko was utterly ruthless. Baby oil shot into Ines’s face. Ines tried to dodge blows from Keiko straddling her like she was either going to titfuck Ines’s luscious golden-brown bosom or beat the shit out of her Miss Universe face by punching her repeatedly. Unfortunately for Ines, it was the latter. Ines’s already plump lips swelled as Keiko did an expert number on her. Blood dripped down her chin. The more she got hit, the more Ines submitted. Then as the pain started to eclipse Ines, she noticed something changed. The blows from Keiko’s hands were no longer so bad. They ceased to hurt and started to feel more like squeezes, pinches, nibbles, and tickles. Keiko turned Ines over and held her Latina conquest squarely in place.

Uh oh, thought Ines. She remembered what Keiko had whispered to her. Ines realized that the reverse was on the verge of happening. Sure enough, Keiko took her raging futa hard-on and dipped it into Ines’s dripping wet honey pot.


Ding Ding Ding.

The ringside bell rang. Keiko was the winner. The crowd who held their bottles of baby oil sprayed furiously. Ines and Keiko slipped all around as Keiko fucked Ines like she never had been fucked in her life. She looked up and noticed that this was her dream. She was in Japan, a star, being watched by hundreds of people. She was so excited being fucked in her Futa pussy that her new Futa cock started spewing cream on the mat. She was coming three ways to Sunday. Her orgasm surpassed common sense, its power shattered the walls of regular Euclidean geometry, and bent her feelings and brain-body chemistry in ways nobody had ever expected. After Ines reached the peak of her own orgasm, Keiko pulled her massive bulging vibrating cock out of the golden Futa’s pussy and spun her around so Ines lay on her back with her blonde hair spread like a desert sun. Keiko shot thick Futa cum all over Ines’s amazing tits, which now looked like they were dripping with thick white syrup. More cum spewed out of Keiko’s cock and onto Ines’s face.

Keiko leaned down and gave Ines a deep, beautiful kiss reminiscent of the one Ines got in Simon Bolivar Park many years ago. Ines closed her eyes and enjoyed. Outside, half-built bridges crumbled into the sea.

Keiko got off of Ines and stood up, “Yeah, I think we’ll have you as member,” she said. She slipped under the ropes and off the ring and a posse formed around her spraying water into her mouth and toweling her off.

Ines also got up and climbed out of the ring. She too got toweled off and got a bit to drink from some kind attendants. “I’m in,” Ines said and winked at Keiko. “I’m ready for some tag-team action, in fact.”


 

The End

















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Table of Contents – 1948


The Futa Boxing Gym

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About the Author






Note from the Author


This was the original story that started the smutpunk exclusive VIP subscription finally released on the major retailers. It is a bit of a cult classic. If you want more smutpunk, I suggest you get more Moctezuma SMUTPUNK at moctezumajohnson.com!

Thanks for stopping by the Futa Boxing Gym. Did you get your turn on the magic rope? Did you get hit with milk-filled heavy bags?

Obviously, this was really fun to write.

FUN FACT: I jump rope every week.

When not writing smutpunk, I’m an avid tennis player and use lots of plyometric training and other eye-hand coordination drills to stay in tip-top shape and combat by penchant for eating an entire pizza in one sitting. Jumping rope and doing ladder drills are some of my favorites. I think if I didn’t have this side of me, I’d be already dead since I have some bad habits like loose women, cigarettes, and spiced rum.

As always, check moctezumajohnson.com for news about what’s coming up. I try to keep all of you abreast of the whirling ways of smutpunk by releasing Bullshit Bulletins. Also, if you want a steady stream of exclusive smutpunk, consider getting a subscription. Trials start at 69 cents. Learn more at my website: moctezumajohnson.com

Feel free to contact me any time at moctezuma.johnson@gmail.com where I am happy to answer questions, take requests, and pen a personalized poem.


Rimmies,

MJ

9 September 2017



ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Moctezuma mixes cyberpunk, futanari, pop art, comics, splatterpunk, and erotica in a high-pitched gender-bender genre-blender running on high. That's why they call him King Smutpunk. 

MJ has been called "Bukowski on Steroids", "Kerouac with lube," and "Mika Tan smutpunks Philip K. Dick." King Smutpunk books are unforgettable gifts that keep on giving. 

It is rumored that Moctezuma crawled out of a New Jersey sewer in 1975 but that can be neither confirmed nor denied.


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