Open Letter to Phenix

Dear Phenix Saint,

You're new to Naked Kombat, five-foot-eleven, 180 pounds, and 27 years old, but, then, you know that.  What I want to know is where you been, bitch, I've been looking for you my whole life.

It's the black dandelion hair, the Scooby goatee, the swagger in your stance and voice when you call yourself a "natural stamina beast," it's every bit of this, and the way you huff and sweat in your match with ex-cop Patrick Rouge (who is just another greasy pig begging me to fuck him too), it's all these things that got me itching to be all over you, slapping that sweaty butt of yours with the palm of my hand.

Think I'm scared you studied martial arts?  Think again.  I took a semester of judo in college--yeah, sure, that was almost 40 years ago, but I probably remember a few things.  Once I get my hands on you, little man, I'm gonna heave you on my shoulders, spin you round five or six times, and then slam you SPLLATTT! to the mat.  See how you like that, Mr Wrestling Stud.  You won't be springing back up to your feet too fast after that.

I've got a yet-to-be-determined grudge against you, Saint, and once I figure out what it is, you better watch your back.  I'll be there to slap the pretty clean off you.  And don't think I won't.

I like the way you went after Rouge in your debut match.  You tore into him, dude.  The both of you were shiny with perspiration and panting like dogs before two minutes into Round One.  I was ready to shoot at Round Two, and that's just the jockstrap round, but I like the way you took the initiative and spanked Rouge's ass and wrung his cock ... like about fifty times.  I like the way you kept taking the fight out of bounds.  I like the way you gave Rouge a little pat at the end of every round, a light tap on the skin, just as a way of saying, "Hey, it's cool, Patrick, it's all in fun, we're friends, and in just a little bit I'm gonna clog your hole with my nightstick here," real friendly like.

And I got a little sump'n for you, as well, Phenix.  Got your name written on it.

I can't wait to backhand cross that pretty mouth of yours.  You don't think I won't set my white butt on your smooth sturdy chest and wag my dick in your face?  Dream on, Romeo.  I can already feel your hot breath against my cheek as I pin you to the mat, with your knee hiked up in my forearm.  I can't wait to hear you tap out.  I can just imagine the look on your face when that happens.

Brace yourself.  There's nothing in the world you can do to stop it ... but I'd like to see you try.

Yours sincerely, till our paths cross ...

Joe