The Boy Next Door (71 page)

“Well?  When we do we start?  What the fuck, man?”

Viola found her answer soon enough.  She decided to go back to class, the same time as always, when the group met.  She figured at best, she’d give the moody fox a piece of her mind for being such a dick.

But to her surprise, there he was and the whole gym was empty.  Just him, staring, pacing and ready to reach his most promising student.  The first lesson didn’t go well—it was strange, awkward and far too difficult.  Just what Viola wanted. 

He wasn’t friendly but firm.  He didn’t ask questions about her feelings but explained how to channel her rage and power into strategic sparring.

They both suited up, wearing sleeveless t-shirts, and then sprung into action.  

She already knew how to brawl and he helped her adjust for technique, firing into a punching bag, then kicking at his gloves.  But the best was when they did the grapple.  He tied her into a waist lock, a very tight one, bordering on sexual harassment, she thought, since he tightened his grip by clutching his forearm, then shoved his crotch into hers keeping her as still as he could, overpowering her smaller frame.

It felt good.  It felt dominant, and her desire to fight back was compromised by the urge to let him touch her and take her femininity. 

But that’s what she needed—to resist what felt good, what felt easier.  She wrestled his grip away but he remained strong.  Each time he gained the upper-hand he shoved his crotch into her butt harder, so hard that she felt his erection growing through his pants.

She liked it and damned if he had to explain himself.  Not only was it going to be this way if a rapist attacked her someday but more importantly, she had to have the strength to break free—from what felt good and what demanded her attention.  Because the moment she lost her focus and began falling for distraction was the moment she would lose.

She detached herself from his throbbing dick and instead used his own momentum against her, tripping his calf with her outstretched foot as he raised her into the air and side to side.  He let go of the clutch, giving her time to squat and recover, then subdue him in a headlock. 

“Good,” he said strongly.

“Does that mean you give?”

He almost laughed but settled for a loud sigh.  He broke the headlock with a quick arm stretch and stalled, as Viola prepared to fight.  But the fight was over.

“You’re good.  I can see you’ve already trained in the past.”

“Mostly brawling,” she said, still eyeing him and studying his face.

“You’re a good defensive fighter but you make the mistake of giving me your arms.  You need to control your arms and not let me have them because that’s when I take power.”

He demonstrated by forcing a grapple on her and reaching for her arms, eventually scoring with a tight wristlock which he let go.  She sighed in frustration.

“You have a lot of rage inside you.  But just know that sometimes defense is the only way to win.  You should become defensive if the other fighter is spending all his energy and letting himself make a mistake.  Don’t let him break your concentration.”

She lost her attention and let her guard down, prompting Othlo to grab her wrist and throw her balance off, tripping her and then sitting on her forearms for a victory.

“And one more thing.  Always fight for the top position.  You never stop fighting for the top.  You settle for lower, you lose.  Got it?”

“Is this professional?” Viola asked, flinching and squirming, looking into his eyes and exhaling—caught in a state between anger and arousal. 

“No.  It isn’t,” he taunted, slapping her lightly on the face.  “What are you going to do?  Gain the upper hand at any cost.  Do what you have to.”

She squirmed and shot her legs up in the air trying to break free from his restraining knees.  She fought valiantly until she hiked her legs up to knee his back and side.  He relented and she broke free, jumping to her feet.

He lunged out again but this time she caught him, locking his wrist under her underarm…but then losing her focus.  She blinked twice and reached in closer to kiss him.

He swooped over with his legs, tripping her and moving out of the way.  He watched as she fell to the floor and turned over, patting down her bruised pride.

“Don’t expose yourself.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes.  You did.  You trust people with your emotions, you get hurt.”

“I want you to—”

“I don’t care,” he said firmly.  “You have no idea what you’re asking.  Stay strong.  The student must always become stronger than the teacher.”

“Are you really that cold, Othlo?”

He raised his brow, listening.

“Or is your heart as hard as your dick?”

“Enough,” he commanded, watching her face to make sure she stood down.  “This isn’t a game.”

She lost her smile and looked down at the floor, feeling his judgment.

He sensed her weakness and invaded her space again, staring a hole through her face and looking down, deepening his tones as he spoke.  “If you ever try anything like that again…no more lessons.  You will be dismissed.  Understood?”

“Yes.”

“You’d better,” he said in dire warning, making sure all ease and pleasure was gone from her face before he stormed out of the gym, as always, far removed from the moment, thinking five moves ahead.

III

Their training continued for days, each time with Othlo growing more impatient, rude and domineering, and always more distant.  He wasn’t like a loving master or lover—just a moody teacher who was losing faith in his student.  Viola was a brawler but she lacked finesse.  As if sensing her lack of confidence, her inexperience, he grabbed her where it hurt and made each new task that much more difficult.

She was learning all right, but something about the training didn’t feel honest to Othlo.  She didn’t suffer enough.  She didn’t get the subtlety of the technique he showed her.  Worse yet, she wasn’t dominating, but reacting to his power.  It bothered him and he wasn’t quite sure how to express himself…

Except maybe a flagrant hip throw and arm bar.

“Oww,” Viola said, as Othlo let go.  “Do you have to be so nasty about it?”

“You think a man attacking you would do anything less?”

“This is just training, Othlo!  Settle the fuck down.”

“What did you say?” he asked, fuming.

“I’m just saying…”

He grabbed her wrist and locked it from behind, then shoved her down to the ground.  He stood up above but then kneeled back down, wanting to emphasize the point.  He mounted her from behind, shoving his crotch into her backside, using his weight to subdue her.

He suddenly became aware of her body, how tight her cheeks were and how firmly she gripped the floor.  Not flexible, not spry, but gripping the mat and tensing her buttocks.  He looked down and saw what he was doing.  His covered staff stood erect and was slapped up against her cheeks, rubbing against her pants.

He struggled with his feelings, still wanting to punish her for being lazy, for missing all the opportunities he gave her.

He decided to make her feel it—he shoved his midsection hard into her rear, hoping to cause a bruise but instead barely penetrated her ass cheeks with his erection. He sighed quietly, a little embarrassed at how good it felt.  Indeed, he lost focus and this was the best opportunity for Viola to win.

But she only waited, craving more of the same.  She waited in silence and didn’t question her sensei.  Instead she let him enjoy the feeling of tight flesh surrounding his shaft.  He knew she felt his penis and was shamefully letting him get away with it.  Not even questioning—just obedient and eager to be punished.

He pulled himself out of her crack but felt another pleasant sensation, crackling up his shaft and then to his heart and forehead.  A nice tingle overcame him as he looked at her butt, so covered and hidden, and so inviting.  All he had to do was reach out and pull off her shorts. 

He felt ashamed at his thoughts, even while resting his palm on her cheeks.

She hummed and arched her back.  “I don’t think that’s in the playbook, Sensei.”

“I…I’m sorry,” he said, shifting backward in revulsion of what he’d just felt.

“It’s okay, it’s cool,” she said, shifting her head to look back at him but remaining in position.  “Don’t show weakness, right?  Just press on.  And let’s pretend it didn’t happen.”

She laughed.  A bit of an inappropriate laugh. 

He shoved himself into her again, this time losing all control and forgetting to scowl and discipline his student.  This time he just moved up against her…without apology or explanation. 

He said nothing but he pushed his erection harder and deeper into her crack through two layers of pants.  He was getting rock hard at the feeling of his shaft chaffing and grinding inside.  It felt dirty and weak-minded.  But it had been a long time since he felt anything like this; anything like the loss of control.  Like inhibition and spontaneity.

He grunted and shoved his dick against her harder, rubbing the buried shaft between her thick cheeks. 

“Do it…” she whispered, all too aware that the slightest mistake or an awkward moment might kill his enthusiasm.  He was reluctantly giving in, rubbing his member on his student and thinking terrible things about a respectable woman.

He almost mouthed the words I’m sorry,” before stalling, figuring words were pointless.  He pushed her face down into the mat and began rubbing his penis between the crevices and folds of her skin, summoning up a forgotten lust—a human and weak mind that he had beaten into shape so long ago.

Viola exhaled softly as he pounded her asscrack so hard he made contact with her guarded hole.  “Uh huh…” she whispered.

Othlo shut his eyes in shame but kept shoving himself, madly, obsessively and seemingly out of his own body. 

He finally stopped after realizing his own shame, and backed away, pressing down on his hard shaft and putting it back into place.  Viola turned around and stared.

“Something wrong, teacher?  Why don’t you finish what you started?”

She quickly reached around and mounted him, pinning him arms to the mat and forcing his knees down with her own.  She climbed on top of his lap and straddled him, feeling his dick bulge beneath her weight.  “Is that what you want?  You fucking weak man?  To train a Black girl to behave herself?  To be your slave?  Is that right?”

He tried to kick her off but she remained strong and fought for the top position as he’d instructed.  He struggled to break free and she grabbed his face, shoving back forward putting his nose and mouth in between her breasts.

He shifted back again but she grabbed his hair and set him firmly in place in between her breasts with his mouth now tasting the sweat of her t-shirt.  He fought his way back, shoving her to the ground and lying on top of her, pinning her arms back.

Othlo looked at her—then lost all resolve.  He kissed her, right on the lips, soulfully as if their life force was exchanging, as if a fire consumed him.  He ravaged her with strong and hungry kisses from her lips to her jaw line and down to her sensitive neck. 

Viola inhaled deeply as Othlo strengthened his grip on her wrists and necked her in mad, forbidden passion.  He shoved his face back into her breasts, kissing her cleavage.  She sighed and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and giving him the forbidden taste he craved.

She looked on in awe as her teacher suckled on her breasts, rolling his face in her wet cleavage, still hot and slippery from their workout.  He pushed up her t-shirt, prompting her to take it off.  He kissed and licked his way from her tummy to her lower abdomen then into her belly button, giving Viola reason to exhale a full and throaty breath.

“Shhh…” he commanded, whether in denial this was happening or just continuing the master-student dynamic, which seemed to please them both. 

She took her shirt material from his hands and lifted it to her chest, her face covered up and her blue bra enticing Othlo to suck on her tits again.  But he couldn’t wait.  His heart beat fast for Viola, and his African temptress was flaming hot.

She exhaled and ripped the shirt from above her, feeding more naked flesh to her aggressive lover.  He grasped at her cleavage, burrowing his lips in between her firm mounds, desperate to touch her, to feel her at any cost.

The sex was getting rough and Viola felt an erotic thrill travel up her spine.  Othlo shoved her on her back just so he could mangle her bra off and touch her breasts.  He threw her bra to the floor beside him and feasted on her, forcing her thick cocoa nipples into his mouth and sucking with a virgin’s desire.

It was hot and Viola loved the feeling of a man losing all control over her—making her feel sexy, feminine and desired.  Not “tough” or sassy.  Othlo dominated her chest, so ravenous he began pinching her nipples, just to hear her squeal.

“Aaaaah!” she groaned and shuddered.  “I like that…I like that…Aaaah!”

He untied the drawstring of his workout pants, watching her face react in heated excitement.  She met his eyes furiously and watched in helpless surrender.

He pulled down her shorts swiftly, bringing her legs out into the open and throwing her shyness to the wind.  He caressed her legs and caressed her sensitive thighs and hips with his warm lips.