Two Rounds with Busaba

When his ring career ends, former boxing champ Kenny is hired by an old buddy. A successful business trip to Thailand results in Kenny getting a sexual bonus..

Author’s Note

Remember, this is purely a work of fiction. Thus, the names of the boxers you see in this story—with the exception of the brief mention of Thomas Hearns in passing—are all fictitious. Don’t bother to research their ring records because you won’t find them.

Part One

This is a sex story, and I promise you’ll get to read all the details, but you have to bear with me while I set it up by telling you about myself.

There’s a wise old adage that states, “All glory is fleeting.” As an Olympic medalist and former world boxing champion, I, Kenny Styles, know this to be quite true. You can be quite famous and in demand for a while and think the luster is going to last forever—but for most people it doesn’t.

When I was 14 years old back in 1978, my high school gym teacher couldn’t help but notice my lanky frame and how it gave me an advantage in rebounding when my class played basketball. He was also a boxing fan and asked me if I’d ever thought about stepping into the ring. I said no and further stated I had never put on a pair of boxing gloves in my life. Moreover, I only had a passing interest in the sport. I didn’t seriously follow it. Mr. Fitzgerald surprised me by saying that since I was a good, natural athlete, he figured if I put in the work, I could be another Thomas Hearns. At the time, Hearns’ tall frame was giving him an excellent professional career as a welterweight fighter. The idea intrigued me, so he put me in contact with the head of an amateur boxing club in a neighboring city as there wasn’t one where I resided.

I was invited to show up to give the sport a try. I immediately liked it! It felt very natural to be in the ring. Mr. Fitzgerald was right. Standing 6’2” but weighing only 130 pounds, I towered over all the boxers in that gym who were in my weight classification. I began taking lessons from a patient coach, a fellow named Miles Miller who had once been a professional middleweight. He joked that since I was entirely new to boxing that at least I had no bad habits to unlearn. The first thing I developed was a strong, pinpoint, left jab that I could use to sting my opponents, keep them at bay, and thoroughly frustrate them.

Within two weeks, I was entered into a small tournament. I won my four bouts easily. In a couple of cases, my opponent never laid a glove on me. One trophy followed another as I ran up a significant winning streak. A typical Kenny Styles fight had me peppering my opponent with jabs with only right hands until he was worn down. Then I’d start unloading numerous straight rights on him along with uppercuts from both hands. If I didn’t knock him out, I’d win handily by decision.

By the time I was 20 years old, I had compiled a scary 44-2 record and was on the Canadian boxing team for the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. I got to the semifinal in the light welterweight division where I lost a debatable decision to a French boxer named Jean Berleau who was built like me and fought similarly. I thus got a bronze medal. I didn’t squawk about the outcome as it could have gone either way. The Frenchman was a good fighter, and he did bloody my nose.

My amateur career concluded with those Olympic Games. I quickly turned professional and won my first 22 bouts over the span of four years. I earned a title fight against a veteran Colombian fighter who had held a portion of the world’s 140-pound title for more than five years. He was a tough brawler named Hugo Valdez, but he lacked boxing skill, in my opinion. I won the title from him in Las Vegas with a spectacular seventh-round knockout when I stunned him with a jolting left jab and followed it with a perfect right cross to the side of his jaw which caused the crowd to audibly gasp. There was a delayed reaction, but Valdez eventually fell face-first to the canvas. The referee could have counted to 100 and Valdez would not have gotten up in time. I was the new champion and I had earned $350,000 for my victory. The first call I made as soon as I could get to a telephone was to Mr. Fitzgerald to thank him for guiding me to boxing. I didn’t have to call Mr. Miller. He was working in my corner that night.

I eventually made four title defenses, earned about $3 million from them, and retired from the ring after losing a close decision to a skillful Mexican fighter, Jorge Garcia, a defeat that was reminiscent of my loss in the Olympics. Garcia told the media the fight had been so close that he wasn’t sure he deserved the decision. I was supposed to have a rematch with him, but my physician discovered a troubling heart murmur and strongly suggested I do something less strenuous for a living. I retired from the ring at age 27 with no regrets and my faculties fully intact. By the way, Jorge Garcia and I are great friends to this day.

For a while I did some work on boxing telecasts as an analyst, but I soon realized I wasn’t especially good at it. I also did a few TV commercials, but those eventually stopped when people began to forget who I was—or once was. I had invested my boxing money wisely so I didn’t really have to work, but a high school buddy named Tommy Bleams, who ran a very successful medical supply business, hired me for the public-relations department of his company. When I began this second career, I knew zilch about his products, but I was a likable has-been athlete and made a good impression on people.

One day Tommy excitedly said that I was to pack my bags because he was going on a trip to Thailand and he definitely needed my presence there. Apparently, a Thai businessman who distributed medical supplies to the huge Indonesian market was a big boxing fan and really wanted to meet me. Tommy figured that if I befriended the Thai gentleman, a fortune could be made. Things worked out wonderfully. The man was indeed a huge boxing fan and treated me (and Tommy) like royalty during our stay in Bangkok. (As a token of thanks, I telephoned Jorge Garcia in Mexico City so my host could personally speak to another boxing champion.) The man quickly agreed to buy as many medical supplies from Tommy’s company as he could ship. It was a deal worth in excess of $80 million. Tommy was a happy man. I was happy, too, to do my part in making Tommy wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.

I was also very pleased to be a tourist in Thailand. I was overwhelmed by the vast number of absolutely beautiful females I saw in passing. I had always thought Asian girls were delightfully feminine creatures—and these Thai women were superior in looks to any and all others, in my opinion.

I was a happy bachelor. I loved sex, but I didn’t have any desire to be married or even have a steady girlfriend. I just liked to fuck multiple partners for the pure fun of it. I always had. I was at least average looking, and my 80 ring wars as a pro and as an amateur had not negatively affected that. When I began to become my high school’s most famous athlete, I had several girls throw themselves at me. I always told them up front that I was not interested in romancing them—just fucking them. It was amazing to me how many of those girls didn’t care. My coach, Mr. Miller, preached celibacy, but I thought that was nonsense. I kept on screwing teenage girls and I kept on winning fights, so I concluded that my fucking had no harmful effects on my boxing.

Even when I turned pro, I continued my frequent horizontal exploits. Because I now had lots of disposable income, I disposed of a portion of it at massage parlors and on prostitutes. Since getting sex was my goal, I figured hiring pros was cheaper or far more certain than dating regular women. Of course, I and my cash were never rejected—not even once. When I was nearing a title fight opportunity, I was scheduled to face a top-ten opponent in Las Vegas. His name was Carl (Caveman) Conrad. He was aptly nicknamed because his style was to recklessly charge forward, throw as many punches as humanly possible, and simply overwhelm the other fighter. Whoever won the bout would be next in line for a shot at Hugo Valdez’s title—and I knew this predictable fighter was tailor-made for my style.

After my training ended one day, I traveled to one of Vegas’ suburban brothels where I had a lovely time screwing a sexy, blonde, eastern European gal named Ana whose fucking skills drew multiple cum shots from me. Somehow word of my recreation choice got back to Coach Miller who promptly threw a fit. It was just three days before the important fight and he figured my screwing frenzy would adversely affect my performance in the ring. He told me if I lost, he’d stop being my trainer and coach. I responded with what I thought was my best performance as a professional fighter. I totally outclassed my opponent. Within three rounds I had broken the Caveman’s nose, knocked him down twice, and opened a large gash above his right eye. Thoroughly beaten, he did not come out for the fourth round.

Coach Miller was thrilled by the positive outcome he did not expect. He grabbed me in the center of the ring, tried to lift me in triumph but failed, but settled for warmly embracing me. I whispered in his ear, “Coach, once I have a shower and I do the mandatory interviews with the media, I’m going back to that whorehouse to screw that blonde again—and I’m bringing you along as my guest. I think you need to relax more. A good fucking might do the trick! You can have a whore on me, coach. It’s my treat.”

Part Two

Getting back to the hugely successful Thailand trip with Tommy, he was thrilled that my connection to and presence within his company had resulted in an enormous business deal. He decided to treat me to a romp with a high-end prostitute. (Tommy was happily married and passed on that type fun.) In our hotel lobby there were a few catalogues, free for the taking, from hooker services that advertised their best personnel. Tommy handed me one and said I could choose whichever harlot turned my crank and have her for the entire night at his expense. What a great guy he was! I leafed through the ten pages of photos and brief bios. There was no doubt which one I would choose for an evening of fornication. Just for fun, I wanted to see if Tommy could guess which prostitute appealed to me the most.

“Do you have a dollar?” I asked him.

“Yes, but why do you ask,” Tommy replied.

“It’s for a small wager,” I told him. I pulled a $5 bill from my wallet. “I estimate there are about 50 girls listed in this catalogue. I’ll give you this $5 bill if you can guess which of these beauties I desperately want to fuck. Furthermore, I’ll give you five guesses. If any of your guesses is correct you win. If you make five wrong guesses, however, you lose and I get your dollar.”

Tommy accepted the challenge and failed. Each of his five choices involved busty and leggy females. After his fifth guess, I took Tommy’s dollar and pointed to a girl on page four named Busaba who was advertised as a “fun and adventurous 18-year-old bedmate.” She possessed an obviously pretty face but had hardly any boobs at all.

“You surprise me, Kenny! I figured you preferred the buxom type. This girl looks like she could be a classmate of my daughter’s.” Tommy’s girl, Brenda, was a sixth-grade pupil back in Canada.

I couldn’t and didn’t deny that, but I explained to Tommy, “As long as she has a vagina where I have a penis, I’ll like any girl…within reason. However, I’m partial to the flat-chested type. When I was becoming famous as an amateur boxer in my high school days, one of the first girls I bedded was Laurie Mayfield. She was so flat-chested she didn’t need to wear a bra, even in the tenth grade. What Laurie didn’t have as physical assets, she more than made up for with her boundless energy and fabulous attitude. Laurie was a terrific fuck and did her best to please me every second of the time we spent together. I swear I enjoyed handling her little treasures as much as a top-notch hooker’s big tits in one of those legal brothels in Nevada—maybe even more so.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I suppose,” Tommy conceded. “I’ll make a phone call and see if I can get barren Busaba to come to the hotel and give you a thrill. You deserve it, my friend.”

Tommy made the call, booked Busaba’s services for me for the entire night, arranged the payment (without divulging the price) and told me to go to my room and prepare for her arrival. “Look for Busaba in about an hour, Kenny. I guess I’ll next see you at the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast tomorrow at about 10 a.m. I hope I’ll see a huge smile on your face.”

“If the girl in the catalogue shows up at my door, I’ll be smiling,” I told him.

“By the way,” Tommy added. “I learned a new word in the Thai language by making that telephone call to the hooker place.” Tommy informed me that the word “busaba” means “flower.”

Part Three

Busaba and a fortyish male in a nicely tailored suit arrived about 60 minutes after I got to my room. That’s all I remember about him. My eyes were quickly drawn to the supremely cute girl standing next to him. She was perhaps 5’3” tall. She was wearing sandals, blue shorts, and a dark yellow t-shirt that featured Casper the Friendly Ghost on it. Her long, straight, hair contained various plastic doodads, including a sunflower, that one might typically see in girls far younger than 18. I suspect the allurement of Busaba was that she could pass for someone much younger than she was—or at least her advertised age. Her escort said with a smile that he’d return at 9 a.m. to pick her up. He said a few words to her in Thai that I could not understand. She nodded and he left. I quickly took my visitor by the hand and led her into my room.

“Hello, my dear,” I kindly greeted her. “You certainly are as pretty as your picture indicated. Do you speak English?”

“Little bit,” she replied in a cute, slightly squeaky voice, while holding her right thumb and index finger about an inch apart. Then she took a piece of paper from her pocket and read a message aloud to me. I noticed it had been written phonetically so she could say it reasonably well despite her not being fluent in English. “My name is Busaba,” she began. “I am an 18-year-old Thai girl. I apologize for my poor English. I am your girl for tonight. I hope you are pleased with me. I will do my best to satisfy you sexually until 9 o’clock in the morning. The nicer you are to me, the nicer I will be to you. I want to have fun fucking you. Thank you.”

I chuckled at the words but loved the message. I replied. “I am Kenny and I want to have fun fucking you, too, Busaba. I want to please you with my penis. I know you will please me. Let’s begin right away.”

We had just concluded the longest conversation we would have all night.

Busaba removed her sandals, but I wanted the fun of personally taking the rest of her clothing off. I gently grabbed her by her waist and lifted her to my room’s large bed. Without hesitation I removed her Casper shirt and revealed her two tiny titties. They made Laurie Mayfield’s tits look like a pair of mountains. They were absolute turn-ons for me. I knew that I could spend all night playing with them, licking them, and sucking on them without ever becoming bored—and I began doing so that very moment.

Still dressed, I snuggled up beside Busaba on the bed, wrapped my arms around her and began fondling her barely-there boobies. The effect on me was immediate. My dick stiffened to steel as I played with them. My erection quickly became uncomfortable trapped in my trousers, so I reluctantly released Busaba for a few moments while I busily removed all my clothing. Shortly thereafter, I resumed what I had been doing. Busaba got into the spirit by caressing my penis with her left hand. I could tell she had done this dozens of times before to other lucky bedmates. Tonight, though, she was mine and mine alone!

I caressed her nipples in numerous ways, giving all of my lusty fingers an equal chance to feel Busaba’s goodies. Busaba removed her hand from my dick long enough to take off her shorts and panties to reveal a completely bald pussy. A single glimpse of it caused my dick to twitch slightly in anticipation, I suppose. Fucking would come later. I noticed by chance that her honey-colored panties had a picture of Winnie the Pooh on them, which made me smile.

I merrily continued focusing on my bedmate’s chest. I could no longer resist licking her tiny titties. They easily fit into my mouth when I put my lips around them. Next, I straddled Busaba so I could slide my erection across her chest. That was where I fully intended to deposit ejaculation number one. When I accidentally got my dick too close to her face, Busaba made the best of it by licking its tip. This girl was a true professional!

Finally, her sweet-looking pussy became too enticing to ignore. I mounted her missionary-style and drove my dick into her pussy with one strong, penetrating thrust. It felt magnificent. I was fairly well endowed, so I had been told by sex professionals, both in thickness and in length. I was impressed that I could enter Busaba’s love box so easily without her flinching. Who knew how many times in her young life she had taken a dick, big or small, from a horny guy like me? I rammed her with my rod fur about four minutes before I came. I achieved my ambition by pulling out and shooting my load all over her torso. The cum on her tiny titties seemed to gleam.

“Oh, nice fuck and cum, Mr. Kenny,” Busaba said in one of her rare statements. “You do good at sex for sure.”

“I aim to please—both you and myself!” I replied with a grin.

I proceeded to play with the goo I sprayed on Busaba’s beautiful breasts by rubbing it on and around them. “Doing this just might make them grow!” I suggested. I don’t think my bedmate understood that sentence.

We rose to wash ourselves, but that was just a brief hiatus. Within three minutes we were back in bed, and I was slowly but surely getting stiff again. Usually, it took me about 13 to 15 minutes to regain an erection. With Busaba as an allurement, however, it took me less than five. She was that sexy! This time I stood at the rear of the bed and penetrated Busaba’s pretty pussy from behind. Had I been into anal sex, which I was not, I would have been in paradise because she had an absolutely adorable little ass. Ten minutes of slamming Busaba doggie-style brought me to another erection. Like before, I pulled out in ample time. I slowly rolled Busaba onto her back and again fired a cum shot all over those tiny tits of hers that were driving me crazy! This time I straddled her and put my penis into her mouth so she could suck every last drop of semen from it.

“Good come again, Kenny,” Busaba commented. “Your dick likes me!”

“Hey, every part of me likes you, Busaba!” I retorted. I proved it by sucking on her right breast. I didn’t care that it was covered with my jism.

I slept very little that night. I was simply having too much fun screwing and sexually exploring Busaba for hours on end. The few times I did doze off, she did too. But I’d wake up and mount her again and fondle her breasts. I came one last time, shortly after Busaba had licked my shaft with great gusto. It was barely a dribble of semen, though. Of course, it ended up on her tits, too.

The next morning, we both woke up shortly after 8 o’clock. Perhaps we had gotten two hours of sleep between fucks. We showered together—which was great fun. I spent half the time under the shower head merrily licking Busaba’s boobies and vagina. At 8:40 a.m. we were both dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her ride to arrive, but that didn’t stop me from placing my hands under Busaba’s yellow Casper shirt to fondle her tits one last time. I couldn’t tire of touching them. I told her that she was the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I’m not sure she understood what I said, but she could sense it was a high compliment. She smiled and kissed me sweetly. I continued fondling her, all the while kissing the nape of her neck until the doorbell rang to end my fun.

The same man who brought her the previous night was there again to pick her up. His English was excellent. I reported that Busaba was the equivalent of a godsend and I had thoroughly enjoyed my sexual escapades with her.

He smiled and said to me, “Sir, since you paid for an all-night session with one of the girls in our catalogue, you qualify for our special promotion. You can have another 12-hour session tonight for half price. That’s just $250. It’s a true bargain.”

That it was! Now I knew precisely what Busaba’s rate was for an all-night screwing session and thus how much Tommy had shelled out for my thank-you gift. Of course, I quickly jumped at the man’s discount offer. “Yes, sign me up, please.”

He asked me, “Tonight do you want Busaba again or would you prefer to sample a different one of our many beautiful bedmates?”

“I’ll stick with Busaba, please.” I informed him. “I’ll rest up all day and be ready for Round #2 with her tonight!”