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I shook my head. "I want you fresh from the fight," I whispered and placed my hand between his legs. My fingers closed on soft balls that rose up as I cupped them and then on a hard, erect shaft, which I stroked through the silk of his shorts before pulling out his waistband and releasing his quivering hard-on. It was a perfect match for the rest of his body: thick, stout, and strong. He pulled my panties to one side and began to gently stroke my clitoris, my juices seeping on to his bandaged hands. He slid one finger inside me, and my greedy hole tightened around it. With his face buried in the crevice of my breasts, he took first one swollen nipple, then the other, between his tongue and lips and sucked gently again. The softer his tongue, the hotter and wetter my pussy got. I had always imagined that my gentle giant would reserve his softest touches for me.

I lowered myself down his body, my pussy and bush tickling the length of his chest from his pecs to his rock-hard stomach until I was positioned just over his dick. Shifting around until I felt the tip of it, I lowered myself down on it gently, gently, slowly feeling his warmth and bulk fill me up and stretch my insides. I was aware of the size of his thighs between my legs, of the bulging biceps that flexed and rippled every time his arms moved to hold my waist or grab my ass. Clutching his shoulders, I twisted and ground my hips, massaging his prick deep inside me. He used all his considerable strength to push his hips up toward my body, forcing himself deeper inside me, deeper than any man had ever been before. He placed one chunky fingertip on my clitoris and pressed down gently. With my cunt turned to liquid, I came, enjoying ripples of pleasure that felt as if they would never end. Nor did I want them to. As my pussy closed around his dick, he shot his load inside me. I relaxed my legs, then wrapped them around his back and tilted my face up for another kiss. We stayed like this, holding each other close, while his dick contracted and his spunk spilled from my slit, staining his silk shorts. I kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair.

"So," I said to him, half afraid of the answer. "Are you really going to retire? Because if you do, I don't know what I'm going to do with my life."

He placed a kiss on my right nipple. "I honestly don't know," he replied. "But either way, you'll be fine."

I didn't understand.

"If I retire, I will have to take you away and marry you so that I can spend the rest of my life fucking you. And if I don't, you will have to be my lucky charm and follow me around the world, watching me fight until I can't fight anymore. Will you stick around?"

He knew that the answer would be yes.

That's how my fighter, my lover, my husband kept on fighting, kept traveling the world, and became the oldest world heavyweight champion of all time. The day he won back his title, we made love on the floor of the boxing ring. He hasn't lost a fight since. As long as he has me by his side he'll never be defeated again. And he will always, always have me.

ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID

Our same-sex fantasies often involve celebrities, colleagues, or even casual acquaintances, but sometimes we find that a little sapphic experimentation happens closer to home. Sometimes, we suddenly see friends we've known for a lifetime in a whole new light. That's what happened to Polly… Oh, my God, Polly!" shrieked Sammy as we turned the key and entered the honeymoon suite of the hotel. "This place is amazing!" I looked around at the four-poster bed dressed in white linen and scattered with rose petals, the floor-to-ceiling Venetian mirrors, and the clawfoot bathtub on a platform in one corner of the room. Sammy was right. It was amazing.

"It's lush, isn't it?" I said, turning to my best friend and bridesmaid. "It's almost a shame to share it with you." I winked so she'd know I was joking. Sammy was spending my last night of singledom with me, keeping me prisoner in my room, so that I wouldn't run the risk of seeing Steve, my fiance, the night before the wedding. Steve was in the same hotel but sequestered in another wing with his friends. He and I had made a pact that he could have the bar while Sammy and I would stay in my room, pampering ourselves with the most luxurious and expensive room service available.

As soon as we'd unpacked our bags and I'd hung my wedding dress on the back of the wardrobe door, Sammy ran to the minibar. "Look at these!" she said, holding up two small champagne bottles. "Aren't they cute?"

I was busy checking out all the posh products in the bathroom. "Look at this!" I said, surveying a large wicker basket packed with luxury shampoos, conditioners, massage oils, and facial masks. "We've got our own personal spa tucked in here! There're enough lotions and potions to keep us busy all evening."