Like a bolt of lightning, pain shot through me. Accelerating from the tip of my nose towards the back of my head, slamming into my skull hard enough to make me forget who I am. For a second, my awareness consisted of nothing but the white expanse of pain and silence.
My awareness quickly escaped its paralysis, pulling back into my mind and body. I remembered exactly what had just happened, and felt a surge of pride race through me. My student, Sasha, had just hit me square in the nose and likely given me a nosebleed. Wait-had given me a nosebleed. I could feel the warm yet cool fullness slowly start to make its way down my nasal cavity, tickling my hairs along the way.
This was Sasha's first solid hit during our light sparring sessions. I had been teaching her self-defense for about 3 days a week over the past 3 weeks. This was our tenth class and she finally managed to land a solid hit on me. Of course, we were supposed to be doing "light contact" which means to touch the other person only hard enough to know the hit was successful. I have been going at 50% speed and mimicking the movements of the typical inexperienced assailant. The typical inebriated shmuck or the alleyway goon, out to get you with impure intentions.
I had aimed to grab her by the front of her tank top around her collar bone while bringing down a hammer fist from above. Sasha, out of instinct I assume, backed away during my grab so that my left hand landed squarely on her left breast which filled my larger than average hands till they made the shape you make when screwing in light bulbs...and that was while they clamped down. I have to touch myself, I mean get ahold of myself was what my brain told me as my fingers wrapped around her soft and pliable tit. Followed by the thought that whoever made pillows obviously never fondled a woman, because it was perfect against my hand.
As I tugged her towards me by her breast (I teach it's important to work through attack situations especially when the unexpected comes up during drills), she instinctively rushed forward past my hammer strike following my tugging and planted a punch upwards towards my frenulum.
I remember being so excited to see that the training was paying off. A smile pulled at the corner of my lips while I began to congratulate her,
"Well do-"
SMACK. My head snapped back.
I quickly pinched my nose and leaned forward, bringing my shirt up to staunch the bleeding, exposing my time-crafted six pack. Sasha, an apparently Russian descended girl with black hair that usually fell to just below her shoulders when it wasn't back in the ponytail she sported during practice, immediately ran over to me, her ponytail bobbing frantically.
"I'm SOOO sorry," Sasha pleaded "it was an accident!"
"Sasha," I reminded her, "we do not apologize for mistakes during practice, we get better, and that was no accident. You did exactly what we've been training you to do in a situation you've been trained to do it in." I explained.
"It was my own carelessness during our sparring that led me to...grab you indecently and you followed your training to a T. I'm so proud of you! Now could you go grab the first aid kit? I've got a date with two wads of gauze at the nostril cafe." I joked.
Despite the concern in her piercing blue eyes, they still rolled at my remark.
"This is serious Mr. Brooks, you're BLEEDING! Let me get you cleaned up, it's the least I could do."
"I told you, just call me Connor. It's important to remember that everyone is simply a person at the end of the day. We all bleed, case in point." I reminded her as I pointed at my bloody nose for extra effect.
"I swear your jokes will be the death of you." Sasha huffed as she brought over the first aid kit.
"So that's why you hit me! You're saying if I keep making jokes, you'll ground me...permanently." I said while putting my free hand up in mock fear.
"It's a good thing you're still sloppy on your groundwork! At least when it comes to fighting. " I teased, knowing she was still embarrassed about our last session.
The last time we had done groundwork, she kept overthinking what to do. I was on the bottom to start, and had turtled up (bringing my arms in close to my chest and under my chin while pulling my feet to my butt) in order to teach her how to work a resisting opponent. She had been straddling my stomach, trying to work on prying my arm off and to the side. In her frustration, she had switched tactics...and also where she was sitting.
She had spun around and pushed backwards until she sat squarely on my face. Her ass wasn't huge but you could bounce a dime off it and it created the perfect insulation around my face. I remember my nose pressing into her soft spot, the moistness on my skin refreshing as it mingled with the heat and sweat of practice.
The scent had been strong and musky, instantly fogging up my thoughts. It was the scent of an excited woman, mixed with the sweat of strong exertion. I forgot what we were doing and raised my hands to grab her thighs instinctively, feeling her soft body yield to my strong grip. She chose that moment to pounce and pinned my right arm to the ground.
"I got it! I got your arm!" she exclaimed excitedly, the vibrations of her bubbly voice reaching me through the bubble of her butt. Her moist cleft rocking against my nose and upper lip, a few drips were squeezed out of her damp spankies onto my helpless face.
