Still Making Wishes
By Beaten Man -  Replies to humbled@abeatenman.com 
Debbie wanted one "friendly" round 


It's been a little over a year now since my wife Peg outboxed me . Did I say
ouboxed me? Destroyed me would be a better way to put it. She beat me every
which way but up. But at least I learned a few lessons.

I learned that I had better not ever underestimate the power of a woman. I
learned that if you want to be in shape you have to stay in shape. Saying you
are because you once were is just not good enough. And finally I learned do be
damned careful what I wished for. Or so thought.

There wasn't much I could do about the first or the third lesson. I would just
have to be careful. But the second lesson, being in shape, that I could do
something about. And I did. As soon as I was out of the hospital I marched
myself right back to the gym and made going there a part of my regular
routine. I spent at least an hour a day there working hard to improve not only
my overall muscle tone and strength but my stamina as well. Free weights,
machines, swimming and cardio, You name it, I did it all.

And it wasn't just the gym I got back to. I started attending classes at the
dojo where I had been an instructer. Twice a week I would go in to the evening
adult class and work out with the young men who were preparing for belt
promotions. I did the floor routines and the Katas and then a little light
sparring or bag work. I still had to watch my legs, I'm not as young as I once
was [who is?], but I contented myself with working on my hands and my stamina.
I still could hold my own with the younger guys. And I, of course, went back
to my daily calisthenics. I walked on the treadmill next to Peg a couple of
days a week to take the place of the jogging I used to do before my knees
starting bothering me. Peg and I and her co-worker Debbie even attended a
twice weekly clinic the YMCA started for boxing instruction All in all I got
myself into pretty damn good shape for a man closing in on fifty. Such good
shape in fact that the volunteer boxing instructor used me as his replacement
whenever he could not make the classes.

Luckily life at home was good during the early trying times. Peg was so
supportive I felt like the luckiest man in the world to have her. I was so
ashamed that I ever even thought of using her to fulfill my childish
fantasies. She never mentioned the beating she gave me or acted in any way
superior to me. She acted as if it never happened. She was very patient and
understanding when at first I was withdrawn and depressed. She understood what
I must have felt. The only thing she ever said that was remotely connected to
the bout was how happy she was that I was getting myself back into fighting
trim and taking care of myself. Even our sex life, which had been rather
stale, improved. Why not? I was married to the woman of my fantasies. Even if
they were my shattered ex fantasies.

I won't say that the thought of a rematch never crossed my mind. It did. But I
discarded it quickly for a host of good reasons. First there was Peg herself.
My wife is a pretty darn smart woman. I knew it before she kicked my ass and I
certainly knew it afterwards. She fought me to prove a point and she'd proven
it. Another fight just for the sake of my pride would be a no win proposition
for her. If she could still beat me, when I had no excuses, she would just be
driving me into depression. And if she couldn't she would just be reinforcing
the craziness that got us into the ring in the first place. And even if she
would have wanted to I really didn't. A beating as complete as the one I took
leaves a lasting memory. The memory would have been a far too heavy
psychological weight to carry into the ring against the same opponent. I was
doing well enough at the dojo to feel good about myself and my pride was
mending just fine. The only bouts Peg and I would have were between the sheets
where I could end up on top any time I wanted.

All in all things were going great. Not all things but certainly most. There
was a notable exception.

There was Debbie. She had been the only witness to what went on between Peg
and I and it must have left a lasting impression.

In the first place the bout really turned her on. It might have been seeing a
man get his butt whipped or it might have been Pegs fighting skills. I'm not
sure, but if I were to guess I would say both.

In the second place she just was a bitch.

She must have been a closet lesbo. Peg and her had never been friends she was
just an acquantance, a co-worker. But after the bout she started hanging
around Peg all the time, fawning over her and trying to dominate her free
time. After a while Peg had to tell her to stop coming around the house and
even had her transfered to another department at work so she wouldn't have to
come in contact with her. My wife is not a closet lesbo and didn't appreciate
the attention. She also didn't appreciate the way Debbie never missed an
opportunity to rub my face in my defeat.

Every time Debbie came around she'd either asked a question in a smarmy way
like "hows it feel to get your ass whipped by your wife" or she'd just say
something sarcastic like Hi champ how you healing" Anything to get my goat or
embarass me. Eventually Peg told her not only to stop bothering her, but to
also stop bothering me. I think she disliked Debbie more than I did. After
that they just ignored each other at work or the Y [she still attended class
there] and didn't speak.

Debbie still never missed an opportunity to get a dig in at me though. I did
my best to ignore her but I sometimes wished she were a man so I could belt
her.

As for the bitch part she probably had her reasons. Though she was only 34 she
had already had two failed marriages, probably due to her latent lesbian
tendencies, and had a pretty dim social life.

She wasn't ugly but she was no beauty queen either. She was about 5'10 which
made her too tall for the average guy and she weighed about 170 pounds.

She was the product of a white father and a black mother and hadn't inherited
the best of either race. Her hair wasn't fro and it wasn't straight. It was
frizzy. Her nose was broad but her lips were thin. She didn't have the lush
figure of a young black woman either. Her tits, hips and ass were to small and
the rest of her to big. She came off looking blocky. Not fat, she was in good
shape and took care of herself but broad never the less. And she wasn't black
or caucasian looking. She most closely resembled a swarthy arab in color. I
imagine her mixed blood background had contributed to her vaguely anti social
attitude. She was probably never accepted fully into either race as a kid. And
kids can be cruel.

Whatever it was, if she didn't like you she was nasty. And she didn't like me.
The feeling was mutual.

But, as I said, for the most part things were good. I was keeping busy and Peg
and I were doing great. As for Debbie, I only had to see her at the YMCA and
usually could ignore her She was a fixture at the boxing classes so twice a
week for ninety minutes we were in the same room but otherwise she was a non
factor in our lives. Her occassional digs were something I would just have to
let roll off my back.

A few months after Peg exiled Debbie from her life the two of them had a run
in during a class. I was sparring with one of the younger guys and Debbie was
heckling the match. She was telling my younger opponent that he was in with an
old man and needed to take it easy. That was after she had taken a few direct
shots at me. Peg must have been listening and came over and stood by Debbie.
The next time she took a shot at me Peg let her have it. She told her what a
bitch she was and that if she heard her again she'd regret opening her mouth.
Debbie backed off and apologized but couldn't resist asking why Peg had to
fight her husbands battles. I heard their exchange and broke off sparring to
tell her that I didn't need any one to stand up for me and seconded Pegs
opinion that she was a bitch. Only I used another word beginning with C and
ending in T

Before it went any further Peg reminded Debbie what she had told her about
regretting her harassment and Debbie hurried off.. Funny, now that I think of
it, although she was three inches taller and twenty pounts heavier than Peg,
she was afraid of her. And not just because of what she'd seen her do to me.
We didn't do much sparring at the Y and if we did it was not co-educational.
There were only six or seven females in the class so when it was allowed there
wasn't too many choices amongst the women for partners. Debbie and Peg had
sparred a few rounds over the months and Peg was far to skillful for her. Peg
avoided being hit and would pepper her with jabs and make her look silly. Now
Peg was the only woman she could spar with The others wouldn't because Debbie
hit too hard and hurt them. She knew she would be in the ring with her again
and knew Peg had power if she chose to use it. She didn't want Peg angry

After that she was careful not to say anything when Peg was around. But she
still wouldn't miss an opportunity to needle me on the rare instances she
wasn't. She just added Pegs defending me to the list of insults. Debbie was
becoming a real problem for me but I, for the most part, just ignored her or
threw back and insult.

The last class Debbie attended was one of those instances. Peg had put in a
rough day at work and decided to skip the evenings class. I was scheduled to
oversee the class and couldn't skip it so I went on my own. I let the other
class participants into the boxing facility at the 7:30 opening and had them
start warming up. Debbie was there and needled me throughout the half hour
warm up as we skipped rope and shadow boxed. I would occassionaly throw an
insult back. When we were through with that portion of the class I paired the
class up into twos and told them to do a little light sparring on the floor
and I would come around and generally keep my eyes on what was happening.
Since Peg wasn't there I couldn't find anybody willing to work with Debbie. I
told her to get some bag gloves and work the heavy bags. She argued and threw
a few insults at the three other women who were in class and refused to work
with her but eventually she shrugged and started pounding the heavy bag. For
the next 45 minutes I made my rounds going from one set of boxers to the next.
Every time I got near Debbie she threw a dig at me and I an insult at her.

At 8:45 I announced that the class was ending fifteen minutes early so that I
could get home and told everyone to clean up and stow their gear. There were a
few complaints but within ten minutes everyone had cleared out except Debbie
who was still hitting the bag. I went over and told her I was locking up and
she would need to leave. She began arguing that I had deprived her of the
chance to get in a few rounds and I at least owed her the five minutes
remaining of class. It didn't seem worth arguing with her over so I stood and
watched her hit the bag for the next few minutes. As she whacked the heavy bag
she began needling me that if I wasn't so psychologically afraid of boxing
women I would have gone a round or two with her myself. And if I wasn't I"d at
least go a round now. I told her I had no psychological fears it just wasn't
allowed and thats why I didn't. As for now, it was too late

That actually was the truth. I had thought of sparring with her when the girls
first refused to work with her. I discarded the notion because I knew the YMCA
rules and also because I knew I really wanted to. I knew I could box circles
around her and I would have loved to belt her around. I was afraid of my own
eagerness and didn't want to break the rules just for my desire for a little
vengeance. I didn't want to be selfish.

When needling me didn't work Debbie tried a new attack. She said she was sorry
about the harrassment and there was no reason we couldn't be friends and just
spar for a few minutes so she could get it out of her system. I am not an
Idiot. I knew she was just playing up to me to get me in the ring. The "it"
she wanted to get out of her system was her dislike for me, I was sorely
tempted but I needed to get home as Peg was holding dinner for me. When I told
her that, she pushed me too far. She said she understood why I was in a hurry.
I was scared my wife would beat the shit out of me again.

That was it. I grabbed a pair of bag gloves and told her to get in the ring. I
said you have five minutes to get "it" out of your system. I wanted to hit her
anyway and she had given me all the excuses I needed. She pulled off her sweat
top and rolled under the ropes as I turned the lights on over the ring and set
the timer for two minutes and the bell for five minutes later. I pulled off my
sweat shirt pulled on the bag gloves and followed Debbie under the ropes.

In the ring I told her when the buzzer went off she would have her five
minutes and that was it. No rounds and no games. We'd both take it easy and
that would be that. At the time I meant what I was saying, it just wasn't
going to work out that way.

We stood facing each other in the ring awaiting the timer. Me in a pair of
sneakers and plain black trunks and Debbie in sneakers, grey sweat trunks and
a white sports bra. As we waited I sized her up. She was really just a larger
version of Peg with smaller boobs, a less rounded rump, and no little spare
tire from two kids. She shared her solid, big boned look and her arms were
more clearly defined. Even though I had lost about ten pounds since I fought
Peg I still outweighed her by 15 or 20 pounds and I was a good two inches
taller. I just didn't feel bigger. She was hard and solid giving her the
illusion of being larger than she was. Her similarities to Peg ended there.
Her hair was a washed out short frizzy brown and stood out around her head.
Her dull eyes matched her hair.

I had seen her spar on occassion. She wasn't big on jabbing and dancing. She
generally plodded forward and punched one at a time as hard as she could. She
could eventually catch the women who didn't really box well within a minute
with at least one punch. That would be enough, they'd fall like a timber and
quit. Peg, on the other hand, would just dance and jab and then get low, weave
in to pound her middle, and get out. Debbie never laid a glove on her and got
stung by the jabs. I decided I would dance and jab. We were taking it easy.
Right?

She knew how to box. After all, she had been getting training for close to a
year. She was just too clumsy for the dancing and lacked the rhythm and
coordination for the bobbing and weaving I still was not going to take her
lightly. I even decided, since we were only wearing bag gloves that I wouldn't
even risk weaving in to deliver a decent shot. Why risk taking a punch I
didn't need to eat. I knew she could hit and I took her as seriously as I
would a man of her size.

We were only playing. Remember? I would content myself with jabbing out my
revenge for five minutes and go home. Then the buzzer went off.

She headed straight for me with her fists protecting her shoulders, leaving
her head wide open, and as nasty a look in her eye as she could muster. When
she had plodded close enough I threw a hard jab at her nose, got up on the
balls of my feet and danced away. I'd let her follow me around for a few
seconds until she caught up, jab again and move back and to my right. I made a
large circle around the ring as Deb made a smaller one inside mine trying to
cut me off. She eventually got close enough to let a huge right haymaker go
for my head. I leaned away and it went by. She had picked that moment to throw
two punches and the left glanced off my cheek. She was in the proceess of
throwing two more so I stepped into her and pushed her back before she could
get the first off.

From the wind that went by me from the right it was obvious that she was going
to punch as hard as she could, bag gloves be damned. We still had about four
minutes left and I didn't really want to stand in and trade punches with her.
But I still wanted to hit her more than I had. I decided to stop wasting
energy she wasn't on the dancing and circling. Instead I would bob and weave
in front of her and look to counter. If she was slow getting off I'd fire the
jab and get down. Sounded good to me so I moved in to meet her advance behind
a stiff jab. The jab stopped her forward motion and we began circling each
other.

Debbie telegraphs her punches. That is she pulls her right shoulder and fist
slightly back just before she fires. The left will be coming a split second
later. I kept my fists close and high by my head and moved my shoulders side
to side to keep my head moving. I waited for the sign and when I saw the
movement I moved my head lower, back and to my right to avoid her right and
raised my right to catch her left. As her right whisked by I cracked her in
the jaw with a left hook and ducked.

I ducked because she was winding up another right which whizzed over my head
as I moved passed it still heading to my right. As I passed beside her I gave
her a right to her side.and then came upright standing to her left. She
brought her shoulder around to face me and we began circling again. She had
surprised me by adding a third punch to her arsenal. If those three punches
would have landed Hulk Hogan would have gone down. She was out for blood. And
that was before I hit her in the jaw and side.

She didn't get busy right away so I began firing the jab from in close. I must
have landed four or five hard ones over the next half minute or so. Her nose
was bleeding like hell but she never even attampted to avoid them. Her fists
stayed chin high. I would have been content to continue flattening her nose
for the next couple of minutes and then go home but Debbie had other ideas.
She pushed forward and lunged into me with both hands on my arms and pushed me
to the ropes.

Against the ropes she started pounding away at my left side. I returned the
favor and we stood there hitting each other on the sides with our rights. We
were in a clinch but every so often each of us would try a left hook over the
shoulder to the head. I managed to push her backwards and as she charged back
in at me I got a sizzling overhand right in to her oncoming chin. She sat down
hard. The canvas shook as her ass touched down.

At first I was afraid that I had gone too far and hurt her. It was a heavy
punch with very little padding on my fist. So little that my right hand hurt.
I asked if she was all right. She said I should fuck myself and stood right
up. Add good chin to the list of her similarities to Peg.

She headed right back at me and bulled me back against ropes. I had my arms in
tight to protect my head so she fired away at my sides beneath my elbows. She
hit me three or four times before I could grab her and turn her to the ropes.
I punched at her stomach, stupidly leaving my head unguarded. She caught me
over my left on the jaw with a short right and as I moved with the punch she
wound it back up and nailed me with a looping right to my side. My already
sore left side. At that point I took a knee and knelt on the canvas.

She called me a name that rhymes with sock plucker and told me to get back up.
I wasn't hurt down there but I still decided to wait a few moments before
standing. She stood right by my shoulder and kept saying come,on come on stop
stalling. She was really pissing me off. I waited another couple of seconds
and then stood up fast punching her low in the stomach with my right as I
rose. As she leaned forward, still rising, I hit her chin with the top of my
head and caught her on the cheek with a left. She stumbled away and then came
roaring right back in.

Add persistent to her list of charms.

As we had been going along it was becoming clear to me that this woman
sincerely didn.t like me. She looked angrier and angrier and she was calling
me ever nastier things. I didn't particularly like her. In fact couldn't stand
her. But I at least had a reason, Her constant harrassment. But this was
different she hated me for no good reason. Sure, I had hit her, but that's
boxing. I wasn't mad from getting hit back. It was her attitude of dislike for
me that pissed me off.. The only thing I could think of was that she had maybe
transferred her rejection by Peg to being my fault. Some sort of psychological
latent lesbianism mumbo jumbo.. Like I stood between her and the woman, she
didn't realize she loved because she didn't realize she liked women - Peg.
That kind of mumbo jumbo I don't know I'm not a shrink. Whatever it was,
something about me enrages the woman.

I don't punch particular well backing up so I charged up to meet her and just
fired my right. She took the punch in the eye and threw her own right and
left. The right was short and the left nailed my cheek and now we were right
on top of each other. I had never seen her fight on the inside in sparring so
I didn't know if she had any idea how. She did. She kept her head down and
tried to get it right up to mine. Keepiing her hands near her chin, she fired
short punches on the inside. I kept my chin pulled back low and fired back the
same way We exchanged about four punches like that to each others stomachs and
cheeks. The lack of padding made the punches harder than short punches should
normaly be. I pushed in even closer and clinched trying to turn her into the
ropes. She clinched back and we wrestled along the ropes with her calling me
names as we turned. The bell rang with us still in a clinch.

I shoved her away and said thats it. She called me the sock plucker word again
and rushed right back in. We exchanged lefts and rights and I grabbed her
again. This time she pushed me away and stepped in punching. We exhanged her
right for my left and then her second punch, a left to my chin, buckled my
knees. I sank straight down as she just missed my head with a looping right.
As soon as my knees hit the canvas I put my fists forward , leaned down on
them and hung my head between my arms. The left to my chin had really rocked
me.

I was no sooner down when Debbie yelled the sock plucker word three times,
interrupted by three get ups. As in get up sock plucker.. I didn't give a shit
what her hurry was I was going to stay there for a moment and shake off the
punch. I took myself six or seven seconds while she hurled names down at me
and then got to one knee. I told her to back off so I could get up. As she
stepped back I rushed her, buried my shoulder in her chest, and drove her into
the far turn buckle. When her back hit the corner I let her go and hit her
under the chin with a right uppercut. Her head flew back and then she pitched
forward and sagged against me. I pushed her back against the corner and she
slid to a stiing position with her knees pulled up. I don't know if she was
hurt, but it least it got her to stop cursing at me for a few seconds.

I staggered back a few feet and grabbed some rope to lean against. I was tired
and sweaty and achy. I told Deb we were done. I told her to get her shit and
leave. She just pulled herself to her feet and put up her hands. She was
cursing at me non-stop as she pulled herself up. "Come on" she said. as soon
as her hands were up I stood there staring at her in disbelief so she called
me a chicken shit and repeated come on.. I figured if she could take it so
could I. I put up my hands and moved back towards her. I tried jabbing in but
my jabs didn't back her up and she fired back with both fists. Her right came
in over my left and caught me flush on the nose. The left got my jaw and I
staggered backwards pulling my hands higher as I stumbled . She hit me in the
chest with and overhand right and I toppled over backwards landing on my seat.
I was pretty sure the nose was broken again. She stumbled forward a few steps
and started yelling for me to get up.

I tried pulling my legs up under me but at that particular moment they weren't
on speaking terms with my brain. I found it much easier to just lay back. She
got right over me and started barking at me to get up again. I talked my legs
into allowing me to pull them in and I sat up hugging my knees. Thinking I was
getting up Debbie moved back so I wouldn't rush at her again. I wiped my nose
across my forearm to see if it was bloody. I wasn't disappointed. I was done
using it for the evening.

I fugured I would sit there as long as she'd let me and try to collect myself.
Using a string of four letter words, a few pussies, two sock pluckers and I
think a partridge in a pear tree she made it plain that it wouldn't be long.
As I sat stalling and looking up at her I couldn't figure out what her hurry
was. I may have been on my ass with a bloody nose and a few bruises on my side
and jaw but she looked like hell. Her nose was all but gone and she was banged
up and bloody all over her face. She was drenched and had angry red welts all
over her body.. But she was up and I was down so I guess appearances can be
deceiving.

Add damned tough to the Debbie balance sheet.

I'd had enough of her insults. As my legs reported back in I pushed off the
canvas and stood. Bringing my fists in tight by my cheeks I moved in to meet
Debbie again. She halved the distance and we started punching as soon as we
were in range. I stayed under the first two roundhouses she threw and got as
close as I could and worked her body. I hit her twice in the stomach and took
another of her lefts on my temple. I blocked her right and caught her again to
the nose with a short glancing right hook. She moved slightly to her right so
I lowered my left shoulder and dug underneath to her riibs with my left. Her
counter right above my left caught me flush on the jaw.

I clinched to smother any more punches and leaned on her as heavily as I could
trying to get her moving back.

I had wanted to stay on the outside and box from the outset. Instead I had
found myself in a toe to toe brawl on the inside. Now it was too late. I
didn't have the legs to box and was stuck exchanging in close. I was landing
two punches to her one and still getting rocked. I had to protect my chin
area, my knees buckled each time she caught me there. I pressed my head
against her chest and tried hooking above her shoulders with my left as I
clinched with my right arm. I hit her twice but the punches lacked authority.
She caught me in the ribs with two hard rights under my hooks. I backed off
with my fists tight in on either side of my head. She pursued as I backed off
and kept firing under my elbows to the soft area under the ribs on both sides.

She kept close, kept coming forward, backing me up with the shots to my side
and stomach. Eventually she had forced me across the entire ring and had me
pinned against the ropes.

The retreat across the ring had forced most of the air from me as she pounded
my body. I tried firing back at her face from against the ropes with a left
and a right to either side of her head. The punches landed but had no steam.
She returned two short hard punches left and right to my chin and as my knees
buckled I slumped against her. She pushed me off and drove an uppercut into
the center of my body. Whatever air was left in me escaped as I slid to the
floor against the ropes. When my rump hit the canvas my legs stretched out in
front of me and I laid my head back against the ropes. I sat there sweating
and panting shallowly. Debbie straddled my legs and from above said "get up
tough guy" .

I remember thinking groggily that it was nice that she wasn't cursing.

She was standing over me demanding that I get up and fight like a man. I had
thought that was what I had been doing. A losing man rather than a winning
one, but I had been fighting none the less. That subtlety seemed lost on
Debbie as she continued to insist that I get up. I looked around the ring to
see if perhaps my arms and legs hadn't somehow fallen off as she battered me
across it. Wherever they were they were not paying any attention to me at the
time. She would just have to wait until they slithered back and reattached
themselves.

She began prodding me with her toe and cursing again. I wished it was my ears
that had taken the beating instead of my body so I wouldn't have to listen.

Debbie leaned over me and drew back her right. She threatened if I didn't get
up she'd hit me where I was sitting. With this new added incentive my limbs
reluctantly obeyed and I began the formerly simple process of standing. She
backed off and gave me enough room to pull myself up.

As soon as I was on my feet she moved back in throwing punches. I moved my
head around as much as I could to lessen the impact and tried punching back.
Either I had nothing left or her face is made out of steel. She ignored my
punches and hit me with a left - right - left to the body and then a powerful
right uppercut to my chin. I slumped against her and slid to the floor as she
stepped back. It was a long bumpy ride down and the canvas shook as I hit it.

I could see Debbies sneaker by my face. She was standing right over me with my
head between her legs. She said she wasn't finished and I needed to get up.

She must have been insane, I wasn't standing any time soon.

From somewhere I heard a familiar voice yelling out "what the fuck is going on
here". It was Peg. She'd seen my car in the lot and come in to see what was
holding me up. That was the first time I had ever heard her curse.

At that moment there was absolutely nothing holding me up - I was laying face
down in the ring.

The next thing I knew Debbies foot had been replaced by Pegs. and Peg was
hurling curses at her.

When the foot moved I rolled my head to follow it. Peg was battering Debbie
across the ring throwing punches faster than my bleary eyes could keep up
with. When Debbie went down Peg kicked her a few times in the ribs for good
measure and then starting walking back to me. I saw Debbie slither under the
ropes and stagger off as I watched Peg coming towards me.

That was the last either of us ever saw of her.

Peg knelt by me and helped me roll over to my back and sit. She asked me if I
was okay. I wasn't but lied and said I was fine and just needed a few minutes
to clear my head. We sat on the canvas as Peg questioned me abiout what had
gone on.

As briefly as I could I explained how we wound up in the ring. I explained my
motives as well as my theory about Debbies. As I said, Peg is a damn smart
woman. She understood not only why I would have wanted to hit Debbie , but
also my garbled psychological mumbo jumbo about Debbie. Peg had come to the
same conclusions about Debbie herself

Pegs biggest concern was my ego. I told her it was just fine. I had given the
best account of myself I could and just got beaten by a stronger, more
motivated fighter. I no longer found any shame in that.

After about a half hour of discussion on the ring floor I was able to get up
and close down the ring area. I followed Peg home and there isn't much else to
tell.

I consider myself the luckiest man alive to be able to spent my nights with
the woman who is truly the embodiment of every fantasy I ever had. When the
lights go out I am free to determine the outcome of my match with Peg any way
I choose to see it. She is too and we haven't missed a chance to tangle since.
The sex is incredible.

Oh, as for learning my lessons? I still need to work on the wishing part. If I
get that right I may actually make it to social security.

THE END

Note: Still wishing is a sequel to Watch Out What You Wish for, also available
at this site.

Special thanks to Joel for the idea.

Thanks to AD as well