Blog de Sr Lutador

Uma das minhas melhores lutas foi com um grande amigo que aqui vou chamar de Alexandre. Nos instigamos durante muito tempo, mas nunca encontrávamos tempo e lugar para o combate (como acontece com muitas duplas); finalmente, entendemos que iríamos estar num final de semana, bem próximos numa praia, que bem cedo é praticamente deserta. Marcamos num platô bem plano, alto e de areia fofa. Antes das seis da manhã já estava me encaminhando pra lá e em determinado momento, já avistava aquela figura magra e alta, como ele é moreno e estava só de sunga preta, de longe parecia que tava pelado. Eu tava de sungão azul marinho (com ele já enfrentei alguns parceiros aqui do Meet). Nos encontramos, nos cumprimentamos e eu sugeri que limpássemos o local do combate, que tinha alguns gravetos. Fizemos e trabalho, marcamos na areia a área onde seria a disputa e eu lembrei que dentro de instantes ele estaria comendo areia. Ele respondeu, dizendo que quem iria comer areia era eu.
A luta seria sem porrada, só golpes e o vencedor seria aquele que encostasse a boca do perdedor na areia. Nos encaramos colando corpo com corpo, nossos olhos ficaram separados apenas por menos de um palmo, nos afastamos e iniciamos aquela tentativa de segurar em alguma parte do corpo do outro, como ele é mais alto, ficava melhor pra ele tentar me pegar, até que pegou eu o abracei e fomos pro chão. Parecia briga de bêbados farofeiros, felizmente não tinha ninguém por perto, rolamos muito naquela areia fofa, até que consegui ir para suas costas e manter sua boca na areia, mas o puto não se rendia, a única saída foi forçar bastante, para que nariz e boca ficassem enterrados e sem fôlego ele desistisse do combate. Fiz isso e ele "tocou". Para minha surpresa, mesmo sem fôlego, o safado disse que eu não o tinha feito comer areia. PORRA! Aquela posição dele deitado com o peito na areia e eu com o peito nas costas dele, mais o fato de eu ter vencido a luta, tava confortável demais para mim e realmente eu estava contando em ficar mais um tempo assim naquela praia deserta, mas não me contive: sentei nas costas dele e ordenei que ele se virasse, senão não ia comer areia mas, porrada. Ele me obedeceu e eu dei uma chance a ele de reconhecer a derrota olhando na minha cara, mas ele dizia: "Não comi areia"! Então toda maldade que estava fumegando no meu corpo entrou em ação e fechei o nariz dele, o obrigando a abrir a boca e nessa hora enchi a mão com um punhado de areia e soltei na boca do magrão. A cara de sofrimento dele foi altamente excitante, mas não dava para continuar a brincadeira. Me levantei e ele ficou sentado cuspindo areia. Dei a mão para ele se levantar, perguntei se tava tudo bem, ele disse que sim e fomos tomar um banho de mar, afinal nossas sungas estavam repletas de areia e nós precisávamos tirar.

One of my best fights was with a great friend that I will call Alexandre here. We instigated for a long time, but we never found time and place for combat (as with many pairs); finally, we understood that we would be on a weekend, very close to a beach, which is practically deserted very early. We scored on a very flat, tall and soft sand plateau. Before six in the morning I was already heading there and at a certain moment, I could already see that thin and tall figure, as he is dark and was only wearing black trunks, from a distance he looked like he was naked. I was in navy blue sungão (with him I already faced some partners here at Meet). We met, greeted each other and I suggested that we clean the combat site, which had some kindling. We did and work, we marked in the sand the area where the dispute would be and I remembered that in a moment he would be eating sand. He replied, saying that I was going to eat sand.
The fight would be without beating, only blows and the winner would be the one who put the loser's mouth against the sand. We looked at each other gluing body to body, our eyes were separated only by less than a span, we moved away and started that attempt to hold on to another part of the body, as he is taller, it was better for him to try to catch me, until I took him and hugged him and we went to the ground. It looked like a fight with drunken farofeiros, luckily there was no one around, we rolled a lot on that soft sand, until I managed to go to his back and keep his mouth in the sand, but the kid didn't surrender, the only way out was to force enough, so that nose and mouth were buried and breathless he gave up the fight. I did that and he "played". To my surprise, even out of breath, the bastard said that I hadn't made him eat sand. FUCK! That position of him lying with his chest in the sand and me with my chest on his back, plus the fact that I won the fight, it was too comfortable for me and I was really counting on staying on that deserted beach for a while, but no I restrained myself: I sat on his back and ordered him to turn around, otherwise I wasn't going to eat sand, but beat it. He obeyed me and I gave him a chance to recognize defeat by looking in my face, but he said, "I didn't eat sand"! Then all the evil that was smoking in my body went into action and I closed his nose, forcing him to open his mouth and at that moment I filled my hand with a handful of sand and let it out in the skinny man's mouth. His suffering face was highly exciting, but I couldn't continue the game. I got up and he sat spitting out sand. I gave him his hand to get up, asked if everything was fine, he said yes and we went to take a bath in the sea, after all our swimwear was full of sand and we needed to take it out.