The Champ

Fuck! Why did I agree to meet his ass here in the first place, I thought. I shook my head and cracked my knuckles as I stood at the bottom of the dozen or so cracked cement stairs leading up to the gym entrance. For some reason I couldn't move. I just stood there looking up at the glass doors. I felt stupid.

Five long years had passed since I'd seen or heard from my old trainer, Deon. I hadn't thought about him or the gym all that time until he called the night before. He said he wanted to see me about something important. I had no idea what he wanted. I should have followed my first instinct and simply said no. We had parted ways so long ago. There would have been no love lost.

But I wasn't thinking with my mind last night. I knew exactly why I agreed to meet with Deon. Despite everything, I wanted to see him, to smell his scent and to feel his skin firmly pressed against mine just one more time.

My gut twisted and my dick thickened uncomfortably against my thigh. Flashbacks of my dick driving in and out of his tight, wet hole invaded my mind. Just thinking about the last time I spread Deon's round, perky cheeks and fucked him until everyone on the hotel floor knew my name had my heart racing. I missed him. I missed pounding his ass. But anxiety over seeing Deon wasn't keeping from climbing those stairs.

I kicked the bottom stair. My nerves were getting the best of me. The years away from the gym and the boxing ring is what gave me pause. I missed the training, the gloves, the camaraderie and the fans. I longed to be a part of that world again.

Something in the pit of my stomach pulled at me, urging me to turn around and continue to leave the world of boxing and all the dreams lost after my accident in the past, right where they belonged.

Five years ago boxing was everything. It defined who I was. I ate, drank and slept the ring. And Deon had helped me hone my skills and become one of the best boxers in the state of New York.

Like so many who had stepped foot in the gym, I dreamed of being amongst the great boxers who won titles and belts. I wanted my name written in history books and etched in the memories of trainers schooling young boxers.

For hours, day after agonizing day, I would train my hardest in hopes of being a super middleweight champion. Some days I longed to get in the gym. Other days I hated walking in that building. Those were the times when my friendship with my trainer, Deon, was so important. The attention and affection he showed me gave me the strength to stay focused.

Deon made me feel special. He made me a better man and a better boxer. He taught me how to throw a solid jab, how to dance around the ring and how to work the ropes. And he taught me what it meant to love a man. He was my first.

I missed boxing. I missed Deon. But I wasn't sure which one I missed more.

Slowly, I walked up to the door, step by step. I gripped the door handle and smiled. I remembered the words Deon said to me when I stepped to the gym doors for the first time: You cross this threshold and you can never look back.

"Come on man, you going in or what?"

I turned around and faced a pair of teenagers toting gym bags and boxing gloves over their shoulders. An eerie feeling of nostalgia crept in me. I felt a silly grin form on my lips. The two of them were a little older than I was when I stepped inside a boxing ring for the very first time.

The tall, dark-skinned boy looked at me, annoyed. I yanked the door open and stepped aside so they could go in the gym. Then I just stood there, numb. The door was open. All I had to do was walk in. With all the strength I could muster, I took a deep breath and walked through the door.

The familiar humid thickness in the air from a gym full of ambitious boxers training and conditioning pressed against my skin. Sounds of jump ropes smacking the ground, gloves connecting with punching bags and flesh and trainers yelling at the top of their lungs, pushing their boxers to the limit filled the air. It was intoxicating.

I fought the urge to slip on a pair of gloves and go an hour on the speed bags. My blood burned. My adrenaline pumped furiously. I wanted to step back in the ring so badly. For the first time in years I realized just how much I missed being in the ring, going one on one with another man.

I pushed the feelings of nostalgia to the back of my mind and focused on finding Deon. No use in lingering on what can never be. I scanned the room. About two dozen boxers of varying ages and weight classes working out throughout the gym. There were only a handful of trainers. Deon was nowhere to be seen.

My old trainer's absence and tardiness to our meeting didn't surprise me. For the ten years that Deon had trained me I could not remember one time where he wasn't late for something. The only time Deon was on time was when he had to be at a match. Oddly enough, he was always early for those.

I invited him to my birthdays, dinners with my family, my high school graduation and a long list of other events in my life that were important but he was always late. The only redeeming quality in light of his persistent tardiness was the fact that he always showed up, even if it was after the event was over. And I always waited for him, even if I had wait hours afterwards. He knew I would always wait for him. And I knew he would always come.

For my twenty-first birthday, all the guys at the gym had rented me a hotel room and hired a bunch of strippers. Instead of enjoying a lap dance or a private show, I spent most of my time looking and waiting for Deon to show up. By three in the morning everyone had left, even the strippers. It wasn't until five o'clock that I heard a knock at the door. It was Deon.

For some reason I was never mad or angry at Deon for being late. If anything, I was always a little disappointed that he wasn't around. But whenever he did show up I was ecstatic. When he smiled at me I felt special. It was that same feeling of being special when everyone congratulates you for winning a title. But it was something special only he and I shared.

When I let Deon in the room the first thing I noticed was that he was empty handed. It wasn't that I wanted a gift but a simple card would have been nice. I thought he forgot it was my birthday.

Before I could get upset, Deon walked up to me and held me in a way he never had before and told me he had a special gift for me. He led me to the bedroom and took me. It was the most amazing and sensual experience I had ever had.

But that was years ago. Deon and I were different men now and there was no point in lingering in the past. I walked through the gym and studied some of the boxer's form and technique. I wasn't impressed.

The boys sparring in the ring looked horrible. Their stance was all wrong and it looked like one didn't even know what punch to throw. A trainer was yelling for him to throw a cross but the kid was throwing a jab.

Once the boy took a seat in the corner he started arguing with the man that I thought was a trainer. It was actually his dad. That explained why the kid was poorly trained. Just about every other boxer in the gym looked just as bad or worse.

There was some raw talent but it would take months to get just a handful of them ready to compete in a tournament. They needed work. And with that realization, I knew exactly why Deon had called me out of the blue after five years.

I jumped at the heavy hand that came down on my shoulder. "Whoa, calm down, Beast."

I turned towards the familiar deep, baritone voice. It was Deon. He stood there looking at me with a huge grin on his face. We clasped hands and embraced each other in a brother-man hug.

His arm wrapped tightly around me. I felt like that inexperienced twenty-one year-old under his touch. I took in a deep breath. He smelled the same. Reluctantly, I let him go and took in the sight of him.

Deon was just as handsome and confident looking as the last time I remembered seeing him. His skin was still taut over his ripped muscles. For thirty-seven the man looked damned good. He could probably hop back in the ring as a light heavyweight if he wanted to. He'd obviously been taking care of his body.

"No one's called me Beast since I was in the ring." I said, smiling at the man that was my first love, my first everything.

"I gave you that nickname." Deon said, raising his right eyebrow. "And I don't recall it having anything to do with your performance in the ring."

My dick jumped at the memory of the first time Deon called me Beast. It was the first time he let me inside of him. I looked at him, starry eyed.

"Well, they say that a boxer's performance and skill in the ring reflects his skill in the bedroom."

"Yea? Well then you're one hell of a boxer, Roman."

"Was," I corrected.

Deon shook his head, reached out and gripped my shoulder. "No. Once a boxer, always a boxer. That will never change. It's in your blood."

Deon draped his arms over my shoulders and pulled me in tight. I thought I would faint. I hadn't felt Deon's heavy hands on my body in years. He was the first and only man that I let get that close to me, that I let stir so many emotions in me.

When we reached his office, Deon motioned for me to sit down. I watch his firm, perky ass intently as he walked around to his desk. If I didn't know any better I would have sworn his ass had gotten bigger, plumper. Maybe it was just the form fitting khakis. Either way, my dick liked the view.

"I'm pretty sure you have an idea on why I asked you come down," Deon said, a wry grin on his face.

I sat back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chests. This wasn't a personal call. He wanted to talk shop and I was more than willing to oblige. But there was no way I was helping at the gym.

"Your gym is some shit," I said matter-of-factly. "You're short on trainers and you have parents working with the kids and fucking up their technique. You need help."

Deon nodded his head, laced his thick fingers in front of him and leaned forward on his desk. Sunlight from the small window in the office made the grays in his salt-pepper hair shimmer. He looked beautiful.

"Good. So when can you start?"

I chuckled at how presumptuous he was. "You know I don't box anymore. I can't. Hell, I won't."

"I'm not asking you to box, Roman, I'm asking you to train and help run the gym. You saw those kids out there. They need held, your help. I need you."

I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

"Why not?"

"Deon, I haven't seen or heard from you in almost five years and you hit me up with this shit. Are you serious?" I asked with an air of indignation in my voice. "You know damn well why I can't."

"What? Because you didn't get a title? You won the golden gloves three times in a row. That's no small feat in New York. You were the most sought after super middleweight in the state."

"Yea, and then I got knocked out in the fifth round of the biggest match of my life and was unconscious for weeks."

"You think I don't remember? I was there. And I was there every day by your side at the hospital. It's nothing to be ashamed of or resent. I know you don't want to hear this but that knockout saved your life."

I shot up from the seat and went for the door. Deon was quicker. He rounded his desk and pressed against the door. Deon pressed his hand firmly against my chest. His touch and the look in his eyes made my knees buckle.

"There is no telling how many months or years would have passed before that tumor in your head killed you. They found it early because you got knocked out. Thank God the only thing you carry now is that scar under your eye."

I shook my head and covered my face with my hand. Deon was right but I didn't want to hear that shit. Yea, they found the tumor. But it ended my boxing career. And what kind of life did I have now? Wife divorced me and I couldn't hold a steady job.

Deon took hold of the nape of my neck and pressed his forehead against mine, like he had so many times before when I was about to head into the ring.

"I need you, Roman. I need you." Deon whispered, over and over again.

I heard the words but they meant something different for me at that moment. The sound of his voice, his touch on my skin and his warm breath on my lips pulled at a deep longing that I hadn't felt in years.

I nudged forward and pressed my lips against his. Not knowing where his mind was, I pulled back slowly and studied his face, waiting for some affirmation that what I had done was okay.

Deon exhaled loudly and bit his bottom lip. I could see the internal struggle in his face. I pulled away from his grip and tried to get to the door again. He blocked my way.

"Wait, Roman."

"For what? We're done, right?"

Deon held my gaze, consoling me with his eyes. He took my head in both his hands. Deon pulled me in and kissed me deeply. His lips felt like fire against mine. I thought my legs would go out when his tongue grazed against my bottom lip. He teased me with his mouth, not only licking but sucking at me.

As long as I had known him, Deon was never one to rush. He took his time. And that was one of the reasons he had me hooked so many years ago.

His tongue slid smoothly in my mouth, exploring every inch and gently wrestling with my tongue. I ran my hands up his shirt and let my finger tips graze over his hard midsection. The six-pack was gone but his muscles were still taut and firm.

My hands shot up to his chest. He flexed under the touch of my palms. The intense beating of his heart against my hand sent jolts though my body, I felt connected to Deon. I was sure he felt the same way. I even mused that he felt so hot to the touch because I was giving him fever.

Deon pushed me back against the wall, reached for the door and locked it. He looked at me with the same lust filled stare he had on his face when I fucked him for the first time many years ago. I knew exactly what he wanted.

I grabbed Deon by the waist and pushed him back until he bumped into the desk. Lust and longing flared in his eyes. I was sure he saw the same in mine. I reached behind him and wiped everything off the desk with my arm. He smiled and shook his head.

"Little fucker. You know you're going to clean that shit up, right?"

"Why you stressing the small shit?" I asked, teasingly. I pulled his hips into mine and grinded my hardening manhood into his thigh. "And I don't know if you forgot, but there is nothing on me you can call small."

I unzipped my pants and let them fall to the ground. With both my hands, I pushed down on Deon's shoulders and urged him to his knees until he was eyelevel with my crotch.

Deon planted both his hands on my thighs, squeezing, as he nibbled at my straining meat through the fabric of my underwear. His teasing drove me crazy. I wanted his mouth wrapped around my dick badly. I reached down and placed my hand on the back of his neck and tilted his head up to face me.

"Go ahead and put it in your mouth. Stop playing with me."

Deon's brow wrinkled as he shook his head and smiled. He brought his hands up and pulled at my waistband, finally freeing my straining dick from its fabric prison.

I watched, mesmerized, as my dick disappear down Deon's throat. He took my dick deep in his mouth, tightening his lips around my pulsing pole. He was slow at first, paying close attention to the crown of my dick, licking and kissing. Then he speed up, bopping up and down at a quick, steady rhythm.

I thrust my head back and looked towards the ceiling. My eyes clinched shut out of pure excitement. The wet warmth of Deon's mouth engulfing my shaft had my mind spinning. My balls tightened and drew up each time the head of my dick grazed the back of his throat. I could feel my orgasm building exponentially each time Deon bottomed out on my shit.

I had to pulled him off my dick before I busted in his mouth. He stood back up and smiled.

"Too much?" He asked, wiping the saliva from the corner of his mouth.

"Naw, not at all. Just not used to you going like that. You were more of the slow and steady type from what I remember."

"Have to keep up with you youngins. Had to up my skills."

"Hmm, I turn twenty-eight next month. Not all that young anymore."

"No? Well, I'm sure the Beast is still alive and well."

"Maybe," I said. I bit my bottom lip and grinned from ear to ear. He was stroking my ego and making dick hard as bricks.

I grabbed Deon by his hip and lifted him up on the already cleared desk. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it over to the chair. I ran my fingers over his collar bone and down through the soft patch of hair in the middle of his chest. His body looked amazing. His nipples were still dark like a pair of Hershey kisses.

I leaned in and sucked on his nipples until I heard a soft, muffled moan echo in his throat. Encouraged, I bit at his chest, leaving little marks on his light, caramel complexioned skin, all while working his pants off.

Deon's thick pole flopped down on his stomach when I yanked his khakis down. He wasn't wearing any underwear. I grabbed his meat in my hand and stroked it, hard. A large pearl of precum quickly formed at the slit of his dick. I took the index finger of my free hand and scooped up the natural lubricant.

I looked up from his swollen meat and locked my eyes with his. He knew what was coming next. The look on his face screamed that he wanted it. So I gave it to him.

I smeared the precum over his hole and rubbed my finger over his sphincter until I could feel the tension in his body relax. Then I pressed inside of him. Deon's body twisted and turned, a moan mixed with slight discomfort and familiar pleasure rolled over his lips.

His dick jumped in my hand as I jutted my finger in and out of his tight, quivering hole. I could feel his warm insides flex and caress my finger. I could tell he was getting used to the invader, so I added a second finger. He yelped and grabbed my forearm, his nails digging into my skin.

With his eyes, Deon told me to go slow and I had no problem obliging. I kept pumping his dick until it was slick with his precum. Still pressing my two fingers inside him, I leaned down and ran my tongue over the engorged crown of his dick. I felt his ass muscles clench around my fingers and I saw how his body tensed.

Deon let out a heavy breath, reached down and pushed both of my hands away. He leaned back on the desk and thrust his large, muscular legs in the air. Deon's puckered rosebud was fully exposed. His hole was slightly darker than his caramel complexion. My mouth was wet with anticipation. He brought his head up and looked at me.

"Fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

"I will," I assured him. "I want to taste you first."

Deon smiled and laid his head back down on the desk. I moved in on his ass. First, I nibbled on that small piece of flesh between his balls and hole. Then I dragged my tongue down and over to his ass cheek.

"Stop playing with me, Roman," he said, his voiced strained with excitement.

I chuckled a little and moved to his hole. I pressed my tongue against the lips of his ass and easily slid inside. My fingers had down their job and worked him open already. I darted my tongue in and out Deon's fuck chute, his soft whimpering driving me to push in him deeper and harder.

"Yes, work that ass, boy." Deon said, moaning. "Make this ass yours, shit, just like that. Fuck, you feel good as shit. Damn, just fuck me already, you fucking Beast."

Enough was enough. I stood up and grabbed my dick at the base. I placed my free hand on Deon's stomach as I smacked my meat against his ass cheeks. His body tensed up in anticipation.

Veins bulged and pulsated on my dick as I lined the head up with Deon's hole. He flinched and placed his hands on my thighs, nervous about what he wanted so much. I brushed his hands away and pressed inside of his ass. The head went in easily. His ass gripped at my dick with every inch I slid inside him until my balls nestled up against his ass.