The fighter stepped in front of me, but not very close -- we were separated by a meter or so. As he was looking down at me, I suddenly realised that I...had been staring at him the whole time. Shameful and afraid of appearing disrespectful, I lowered my head. I heard the two men exchanging few words, but of course I could not comprehend what was said. The fighter slowly walked around me and I could feel his eyes probing every inch of my kneeling body. Finally he stopped right in front of me. Not. For so long he had fantasized about her long, white fingers entwined around his erect, black penis. And those lovely lips . . . What did he want, pushing himself towards her? No, not that. She didn’t do that. His hands were on her face. Please, please. I can’t, I’ve never. Please, I’ve imagined, I’ve wanted so long. I want to watch. She could smell his muskiness, she could see the throbbing of his prick, she felt the heat emanating from it, and then the softness of its skin. She touched her. More

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