I'd known Gennady Gonad Golovkin for some time... a hardened bummer who - as you may have heard the HBO commentary team say on perhaps a rare occasion - is also known as "Triple G".
When I was first offered the chance to bum him, I showed how up for the bumming I was by throwing my bumming belt in a bin and retreating to a completely different division. However, after some time I finally felt ready to see how good my cock would be against his.
"We make big bumming show, yes?" GGG said, in that affable, slightly retarded way of his.
We got it on, and pretty early on it looked like a good night for me... I was slipping his swinging ball sac, and ******* myself off with regularity, spurting right on his chin. I was faster with my ****, more slippery. More lubed up.
After the first 12 minutes of bumming, I felt it was going to go my way. Yet sadly I couldn't stop GGG cumming forward. Even when I spurted on his chin, then while occasionally I made his legs jiggle with pre-cum anxiety, he kept coming forward. He was slow but powerful, thrusting towards me repeatedly and never taking a backward step.
I started backing away from him, and the hardness of his thrusting loins was wearing me down. I made sure I always kept my back to the ropes so he couldn't get in too early, but when my cornerman got out a single finger covered with vaseline, I knew what he was trying to tell me.
Truth to be told, I sc****d out a little bit of dignity in the last few minutes by unloading on his face, and I didn't see a close bumming score out of the question. Hell, I wouldn't have even had TOO much issue with someone saying we'd had an equal bumming, but in my heart, I felt I'd lost a close one. I just couldn't get away from that thrust of his, and it had worn my body down a little.
Suddenly, the first judge spoke, and told me that, out of all the bumming, they'd seen it 10-2 in my favour. (favor, Fat Yanks).
I was speechless. Fucking speechless. Sure, I was faster, and slicker, but he'd still rammed that pecker in my mush with regularity, and I couldn't get away from it at times.
As I looked around, ready to say a load of face-saving bullshit in interviews afterwards, I was stunned. "Don't worry," said an aide, "we'll make millions in the bumming rematch. Now tell everyone you never felt his cock."
I did as bidden, and, shame-faced, told everyone I felt I'd outbummed him. My conscience wasn't clear, but my bank balance was full.
When I was first offered the chance to bum him, I showed how up for the bumming I was by throwing my bumming belt in a bin and retreating to a completely different division. However, after some time I finally felt ready to see how good my cock would be against his.
"We make big bumming show, yes?" GGG said, in that affable, slightly retarded way of his.
We got it on, and pretty early on it looked like a good night for me... I was slipping his swinging ball sac, and ******* myself off with regularity, spurting right on his chin. I was faster with my ****, more slippery. More lubed up.
After the first 12 minutes of bumming, I felt it was going to go my way. Yet sadly I couldn't stop GGG cumming forward. Even when I spurted on his chin, then while occasionally I made his legs jiggle with pre-cum anxiety, he kept coming forward. He was slow but powerful, thrusting towards me repeatedly and never taking a backward step.
I started backing away from him, and the hardness of his thrusting loins was wearing me down. I made sure I always kept my back to the ropes so he couldn't get in too early, but when my cornerman got out a single finger covered with vaseline, I knew what he was trying to tell me.
Truth to be told, I sc****d out a little bit of dignity in the last few minutes by unloading on his face, and I didn't see a close bumming score out of the question. Hell, I wouldn't have even had TOO much issue with someone saying we'd had an equal bumming, but in my heart, I felt I'd lost a close one. I just couldn't get away from that thrust of his, and it had worn my body down a little.
Suddenly, the first judge spoke, and told me that, out of all the bumming, they'd seen it 10-2 in my favour. (favor, Fat Yanks).
I was speechless. Fucking speechless. Sure, I was faster, and slicker, but he'd still rammed that pecker in my mush with regularity, and I couldn't get away from it at times.
As I looked around, ready to say a load of face-saving bullshit in interviews afterwards, I was stunned. "Don't worry," said an aide, "we'll make millions in the bumming rematch. Now tell everyone you never felt his cock."
I did as bidden, and, shame-faced, told everyone I felt I'd outbummed him. My conscience wasn't clear, but my bank balance was full.
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