Erotic Fight Club Ch. 01: Meeting Ronda

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the rights to the UFC, Zuffa, or Reebok brands. This is obviously a work of fan-fiction and parody. Views and sentiments expressed within this story are not reflective of any of the characters' real life counterparts. When writing stories that use real people I try to keep as true to their physical properties as I am able to and of course take large liberties with their personalities while trying to at least capture a bit of their essence. This is an erotic-homage to these people whom I respect, am attracted to, and am a huge fan of which is why I would take the time and interest to write such stories featuring them in the first place.

Warning: This story will contain ass play and rimming elements, if that is not something you are interested in I hope you will still read most of the story and skim past those parts because I've put quite a bit of hard work into this story.

Author's Note: If you are a fan of the other series I'm currently writing please don't expect this story to be updated with the frequency that that series has been. I'm hoping that this will be a bi-monthly update situation, but will see how it flows as I continue to work on it. Lots of exciting ideas, so it's just a matter of putting them together and polishing them. I do all of the editing myself so it takes some time.

With all that said, I hope you all enjoy and please leave feedback and ideas that I may be able to incorporate in later chapters.

Thanks for reading and as always, happy orgasms!

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Chapter 1 – Meeting Ronda Rousey

This is a story I never could have expected I would tell, and one I can certainly never tell at parties. It's not a story about my first fight in the UFC, or even meeting my idol Ronda Rousey. It's a story about what happened after those life changing moments: my introduction to an underground world that I had no idea even existed, and how learning about it has completely changed me. I guess I should start by telling you a little about my life before I joined the Erotic Fight Club.

My name is Miya Salazar, I'm nineteen years old and I'm a fighter first and foremost. I was introduced to the world of mixed martial arts and the UFC when I was 14 years old. My mom was out of town seeing family and my dad wanted to watch Jon Jones defend his belt against Lyoto Machida so he brought me along to the local Buffalo Wild Wings to watch. I remember being grossed out at first: the blood, the sweat, the evident pain... But somewhere through the night I began cheering for fighters I liked the look of and by the end I was going wild with all the other fans in the bar when Jon Jones choked Lyoto Machida unconscious against the fence and walked away. It was one of the coolest things I'd ever seen in my life.

After that day I became obsessed. I used YouTube to find as many old fights as possible and began going with my dad to the bar for every fight we could, it was a real bonding experience for us. After a number of months I told him I wanted to train in Mixed Martial Arts. Not fight, mind you, I didn't think he'd go for that, but just train in jiu-jjitsu and boxing and wrestling. I was already a very fit young lady from taking gymnastics and ballet most of my life. I had a six-pack, strong thighs, and no boobs like most of my gymnastics peers. He agreed and started taking me to a local gym in Albuquerque, New Mexico where we lived and I started from scratch.

I went to the MMA gym every day my dad could take me, my social life outside of the gym went extinct but I didn't care at all and my parents were happy as long as I kept my grades up. I got my learner's permit a week after I turned 16 and inherited my dad's beat up old pick-up truck so I could be there every day after school and on the weekends too; rolling with the guys and learning as fast as I could while also working shifts at the gym to make some pocket money. In March of 2012 Ronda Rousey became the Strikeforce Champion by defeating Miesha Tate and I fell in love with the woman. She was so confident and outspoken, and so powerful. I must have watched her fights a hundred times each by the time she fought next to defend her belt – not that it took long with none of her fights ever leaving the 1st round. Her defense against Sarah Kaufman was even more dominant than the whooping she put on Tate. I wanted to be her. Badly.

My training got more intense from there as I followed Ronda's career and so desperately wanted to follow in her footsteps. I was too small to ever compete in her division, successfully anyway, at five-foot-three and only a hundred and twenty-five pounds. I guess not being able to one day get spanked by Ronda wasn't the worst thing that could happen to me, I mean I never wanted to fight her really, I just wanted to be her. However, there not being any division in the UFC for my weight didn't deter me: by 17 I was sneaking away on weekends to "group outings" as I told my parents, which were really fights so amateur that I had to pay to participate. I won all of those fights pretty easily honestly, taking a tip from Ronda I focused a lot of my time and energy in the gym on takedowns and submissions. Half the girls I fought in those days were rough and tumble street fighters. Making them tap was almost too easy.

It was in 2013 that my dreams went into overdrive: The UFC was starting a Women's Strawweight Division. I had to figure out some way to go pro without my parents knowing. They were still against me competing seriously because they didn't want their baby getting all beat up. As long I was under 18 I needed their permission to fight in any real organizations. When Invicta called my manager (me) because they needed a short notice fill-in and had heard my name floating around some local circuits I jumped at the chance to get my first pro fight. I ended up getting a friend from school to forge my mom's signature to all of the appropriate forms so I could participate.

When the time came I was up against a girl with a 2-1 record named Krista Bell. It was a closer fight than I'd have liked, she clocked me a few too many times, ringing my bell early, but I wore her down and made her tap to a kimura in the middle of the third round. The feeling of your first professional win is something you never forget. It feels like what I imagine an out of body experience must feel like: just floating around everywhere you go and smiling from ear to ear even though it hurts to smile. It felt like I might float away I was so full of myself at that point. I sobered up quick when I got home with two black eyes and a swollen lip. I managed to convince my parents (with the help of a smooth lie from one of my gym buddies) that I'd been jumped by a couple guys who wanted my bag and phone but I'd managed to break one of their arms in the confusion of our tussle and they all ran away after that. Even though they bought the lie I wasn't allowed to go out at night by myself anymore.

After that first win Invicta sent me a contract but since I was still too young and didn't think I could manage to keep my second life as secret as I'd like it to be I decided to wait until I was eighteen to fight again. Instead I went back to work and even switched gyms, managing to get myself into Greg Jackson's gym and started training harder than before. I worked a lot more on my stand up game because I didn't want to take the kind of damage I did in that first fight again if I could help it. It was around this time I met James Bartlett.

James was a fighter at Jackson's gym and a little bit older than me. He hadn't gone pro yet but showed a lot of promise. He took an interest in me first because I was too focused on training to really even notice the opposite sex in that way at all; I was still a total virgin actually. Not that I minded, I had my fingers and porn and that had always been enough for me. One day after we finished rolling together we were getting some water and he had apparently gotten tired of me not picking up his clues so he grabbed me by the shoulders, looked at me with his intense green eyes and said, "Miya, I think you're the toughest, prettiest, most bad ass girl I've ever met and I want to have dinner with you. Like on a date. Let's go on a date." I couldn't say anything except for "yes," right?

James and I really hit it off and became an official couple pretty quickly. We supported each other in the goals we wanted to achieve and made each other stronger. After dating for about 6 months I turned 18 and on my birthday we went back to his place after our workout and finally had sex. It was actually pretty nice. Everyone always makes a big deal about how bad and uncomfortable the first time is, but other than me not knowing at all what to do I think it went pretty well. I didn't have a real orgasm or anything, but it was still fun. That night I rubbed one out thinking of how his dick felt inside of me, the way it filled me up, and the next day it was all I could think of. I was rolling with some new guy that day and he could probably only smell how wet my pussy was. I told James I was coming over after the work out to get a massage and release some tension and wow did we release some tension. I released my tension about three times and he released his tension all over my little boobs. From that point on we were like rabbits.

The sex didn't take away from my focus though. Once I'd turned eighteen I got in contact with Invicta again and asked for a fight as soon as possible. I was hungry to get back in there. I won the next two fights they gave me (against girls with a combined 1-4 record of course) pretty easily and finally decided to tell my parents that I'd been fighting. They yelled a lot, but ultimately they understood. They had probably known on some level ever since I got "mugged."

After my fourth pro fight in June of 2015, which I won by second-round TKO, my manager (I really had one at this point) got a call from the UFC about me fighting another girl with no UFC fights on the Fight Pass prelims of UFC 191. Apparently they liked my "look" and thought I could appeal to many markets they wanted to expand into. I guess here is where I should describe myself a bit so you know what I mean. As you know, my name is Miyah Salazar. I'm half Japanese (my mom is full Japanese), a quarter Spanish and a quarter black. As I said before I'm five-foot-three and about one hundred and twenty-five pounds. I'd never put much thought into whether I was attractive or not because I'd only ever really been focused on being strong, but I've been told I'm pretty (mostly by family so it doesn't really count) all my life and recently someone told me that I look like if Jhene Aiko were a little darker, had muscles, and a big booty. So the UFC had seen I was attractive, undefeated, and could appeal to an Asian and Hispanic market. I was very "marketable."

Anyway, needless to say I thought my heart and head were going to explode at the same time when I got the news. I actually started to hyperventilate a bit. Despite their reservations about me fighting still my parents knew this was a big deal and threw a party for me that weekend. I knew my dad didn't want to see me get hurt, but I also think he was the proudest father in all of New Mexico that night.

After the celebrations were over it was time to get to work. We put together a two-month camp and I got to work with Greg Jackson and Mike Winklejohn much more than usual during that period, which was pretty cool. I also learned a ton and got to roll with Holly Holm for a few sessions which was seriously cool because she was next in line to fight Ronda. Everything was going really well, almost too well, and I started to get really nervous about the fight the closer it got. Luckily when you're new to the UFC not many people are interested in interviewing you so the lead up was all about cutting weight, which wasn't too hard since I could hardly keep any food down and only needed to shed ten pounds anyway.

The locker room warm ups were no different than the rest of the week had been: butterflies fluttering around my stomach, running into the knots that had tied themselves in my innards. I hit the pads when they asked me to, I stretched when they asked me to, and I took a break when they asked me to but it was all very robotic and distracted, like I wasn't fully in control of myself. I was getting seriously worried that this chick was going to beat the shit out of me because I wouldn't be able to lift my arms at all.

James was in the locker room with me and a couple of my coaches and with about thirty minutes left before I was going to be called out he asked them to leave us alone so we could talk. He could tell how tight I'd wound myself and wanted some time alone to try to loosen me up and get me out of my own head. "Miya, you're gonna do great tonight. You don't have anything to worry about; this girl is a kickboxer with a 2-1 record. She's nothing you haven't seen before. You just gotta go out there and do what you do." I tried to smile at him as he moved toward me after locking the door to our room, but it was a crooked smile only half felt.

He sat down beside me and shifted back so he could rub my shoulders. His strong fingers digging into my muscles and loosening them up felt great but I was sure I'd just re-knot them with worry before getting in the cage. "My parents are here James, what if she knocks me out?"

"That is not gonna happen, you've got a solid chin and good head movement, as long as you do your best I know you'll win this fight." His hands had begun working down my back, working my lats and along my rib cage.

I let my head fall to the side and onto James' shoulder, "Well I appreciate your platitudes, no matter how biased they are. I just can't get my mind off of all the possibilities, all the people watching me. I want to be the best, but what if my best isn't enough to be the best?"

He was digging his knuckles into my lower back just above my shorts, "It will be. I know it will be." He planted his soft lips on my forehead and gave me a kiss. "You just need to stop thinking so much. It's good to be aware of the possibilities and situations that could spring up, but if you obsess on it you're going to beat yourself. You have to be loose in there and just feel the fight."

"I know you're right," I pouted, "but I can't shut my brain off. I don't want to be this stressed but I can't make my dumb brain shut the fuck up."

James laughed and grabbed my chin to turn my head toward his, "I've got an idea that could help." He planted a firm, passionate kiss on my lips and then ran his hand over my currently-braided hair, his fingertips lightly grazed my neck and shoulder before slipping itself under my sports bra and finding my nipple and giving it a light tug which sent chills through my body. I've always liked my nipples personally, I know a lot of girls can be really self-conscious about their nude form but I've always rather liked mine. My nipples are the puffy kind and a chocolate-brown shade which makes them look a bit like Hershey's Kisses. James often jokes that they taste like milk chocolate.

As I let out an involuntary moan into his mouth thanks to his teasing my mind began to race: 'Do we have time for this? Will everyone know I've just had sex? Will it actually help? I've heard Ronda say in interviews that she likes to have sex before fighting, but I doubt she meant in the locker room minutes before a fight... Will this affect my stamina during the fight?' And while all of that was racing through my head my pussy had become incessantly moist and I could feel the blood pulsing through it. My final intelligent thought in that moment was, 'I need to take these shorts off so they don't reek of sex during my fight.'

I broke our kiss, losing myself in the moment, and stood from the bench we were seated on. It took all of two seconds to step out of the tight Reebok shorts and the underwear I was wearing and then I reached down to yank James' shirt off as he began fumbling with his shorts. "I need you to fuck my brains out babe." I kissed him hard, holding his face in both hands and staring him in the eyes, "Make it quick."

He had his shorts and boxers off by that point and his cock was rock hard between his legs and staring straight at me. I've not been made familiar with a lot of cocks, well mostly just the one and the ones I've seen in porn, but I've always thought James had a very nice one. It's not overly long – though I don't have much to compare it to – at about six inches, maybe a bit less, but it is very thick and that's my favorite part about it. Not to mention it's a pretty dick, well as pretty as a dick can be I guess. He's circumcised with a bulbous spade-shaped head and one large vein that runs down the top of it.

Seeing his dick between his legs pointing at me, staring at me, waiting for me, I couldn't help myself. I swung one leg around him to the other side of the bench and then straddled him with both. My engorged lips smushed against his cock and I slid them up and down the length of it to lube him up. We began kissing passionately, so many feelings were firing through my body but there were no thoughts in my head. With a quick adjustment of my hips I was able to take him into me and sat down on his meat fully. I loved how full he made my hungry pussy feel. I slowly moved my hips up and down so my clenching inner muscles would massage his shaft. He could only take a few moments of this before he took my words to heart and fucked me properly.

James stood up with me still impaled on his cock. It was no feat of strength really as he is nearly a foot taller than me and far stronger than any average guy. With both hands grasping a plump cheek he held me firmly and then began jack hammering into my pussy. I could feel his heavy balls swinging up to slap my ass with every other thrust, and the sound of my pussy slurping up and down his length filled my ears. I wasn't thinking anymore, but I was feeling everything: the muscles flexing in his back as I held onto him, his tongue exploring my tongue, my pussy hugging his dick so tightly I thought we might start a fire, and the immense pleasure coursing through my entire body. It didn't take me long to get to the brink of an orgasm, "Baby, I'm gonna cum. Oh, fuck yeah baby! Give it to me harder! Fuck!"

"I'm close too Miyah, fuck you're so beautiful, I fuckin' love you." He groaned and picked up the pace. At this point he'd pinned me against a wall which was helping to hold me up and also giving him a bit of leverage to get even deeper. I was on Cloud Nine.

"Cum inside me baby. Fill my cunt with that hot white spunk!" Usually I made him cum on me or I'd swallow it, but I was on birth control and honestly didn't give a fuck at that moment in time, I just wanted as much of him inside of me as I could have. Of course as soon as those words came out of my mouth and entered his ears his balls exploded. He thrust hard into me, hitting spots I wasn't aware I had and began pumping load after load of his cum deep in my pussy. I could feel his cock spurting it out, pulsing with his own personal orgasm rhythm and that sensation plus the knowledge that he was pumping me full of his baby batter sent me into one of the most intense orgasms I'd ever had.

We stood there – well he stood, I kind of hung, still wrapped around him with his dick slowly softening inside of me – for a minute or two. I clung to him but my legs were shaking and I was breathing deeply, just holding on for dear life. Finally I glanced at the clock, I had 10 minutes left before I had to start walking down to the cage. A glop of his cum ooze out of me and splattered on the floor and we both laughed, still overcome with ecstasy.

"I should go clean up a bit. You didn't mess up my hair or leave any scratches on me did you?" He pulled out of me slowly and let me down. As soon as my feet hit the ground a rivulet of his cum began rolling down my inner thigh, follow by two more on the other side and another thick glob of white hit the ground.