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I’ve always had a bit of a thing about Johnny Lewin. Don’t know why – well yeah, I do I guess, but that would take a bit of explaining. And by the end of this story you’ll probably understand the why and fucking wherefore of it all.

I’m Eddie Branca, and I’m in the martial arts business – or what our lot call mixed martial arts or no-holds-barred. (Well, actually, a few holds are barred. You’re not supposed to grab a guy by the balls for example, though that hasn’t stopped me now and then.) My training is in Brazilian jiu-jitsu and though I’m a black belt and have a taste for kicking ass I’m very selective about competing. I like to know what my chances are and I don’t like taking unnecessary risks. For my real business is in the media, writing for martial arts magazines and working as a commentator at some of the big NHB shows. But I work out just about every day. Fact is, for me getting down on the mat and working on my submission skills is addictive. Can’t get enough of it!

Surprisingly enough, given my profile as a media guy, Johnny and I have not met, which somehow contributes to the ‘thing’ I have about him. I’ve seen him fight of course – in the flesh and on video and DVD – and I was actually a commentator for one of his fights that he happened to lose – and lose real bad. And it got back to me that Johnny was pissed off with what I said about him when he heard it played back. His opponent was a much shorter guy with a reputation for being a hard hitter and in the first minute Lewin left himself open for a vicious left hook to the side of the jaw which dropped him on his butt. I will never forget the look of surprise and helplessness on his face as he realized what had happened – and how he struggled to get to his feet and fell back to the mat, still groggy from the KO punch. Fucking beautiful, man!

Well, partly as a result of seeing him so easily suckered in this fight I happen to think Johnny Lewin is over-rated. Of course part of his reputation now stems from his career as a teacher and trainer, and quite a few ‘names’ in the sport have worked out at his gym. He’s also had a lot of publicity, being described as ‘warlord of the new millennium’ and crap like that. But I have to admit there’s something about the guy that interests me.

Like me he’s a lightweight, but he’s close to 6’, so he’s slim though quite muscular around the shoulders and pecs. There’s a photo of him, a magazine cover, that particularly interests me: he’s facing the camera in fighting stance, his left mitt held up close to his face and his right low over the abs. (It’s just inviting the left hook.) But the expression on his face is what gets me. He’s almost smiling as he takes you in, and somehow it’s as if he’s saying, ‘Okay dude, come and get me!’ And fuck, I want to come and get the bugger.

And then there’s the tatt. The head of a snake is located close to his belly button. The body of the snake curls round to his back, then finds its way down to his right thigh, wrapping itself round his leg, its tail ending up on his ankle. It’s a work of art. I want to get close to that snake, maybe bite its head off, and I feel a really need to work on that leg and cause Johnny baby real pain.

Well, it happened a journey through California was gonna to take me close to the town where Johnny has his gym. It was too good an opportunity to miss, so I gave him a call and introduced myself. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled to hear from me, but when I mentioned that I would like to do an interview with him he cheered up, because like any self-advertising operator I could tell he’s a sucker for publicity. Could I call in on his gym, maybe meet some of his students? Sure thing, he said, suggesting I come to his senior class which was the last for the day: I could work out with the boys and then we could do the interview afterwards, maybe over dinner.

Sure thing Johnny, I think to myself, except that by the time I’ve finished with you, you won’t be feeling much like dinner. I get a hard-on every time I think of our coming little get-together.

So here I am in Hickville California where Lewin’s gym caters for the local would-be toughguys, some of whom at least will have dreams of making it through to the UFC or King of The Cage. And yeah, the hard-on is becoming really insistent now as I fantasize about the night ahead.

I time it so I arrive when the class have done their warm-ups and their drills and are starting to work out. Johnny doesn’t halt proceedings but comes over to say hullo and point me to the locker room. ‘You might like to say a few words to the guys and then join in the workout,’ he says, playing the friendly host. Me, I’m playing it cool and distant, uttering no more than a grunt as I check out the class with a skeptical look, as if to say, you’re kidding me, these jerks are the best you’ve got?

I go to the locker room and change into my tight fitting tapout trunks and black asics wrestling shoes, do a few warm-ups and check myself out in the mirror. I’m not a big guy, just 5’9" and 165 pounds, but I have a wrestler’s body, neat and chunky, nicely rounded pecs, washboard abs, muscular thighs and calves. And the face, not too bad either with black hair that brushes back naturally, and the slightly smartass expression of a guy who is not, shall we say, lacking in self confidence.

When I return to the gym Johnny calls the guys to order and they dutifully gather round, squatting on the mat. They’re all hot and sweaty and that smell of the mat acts like an aphrodisiac for me. Johnny introduces me, though I can see he’s already a bit turned off by my cool, self-contained manner.

‘I appreciate the opportunity of telling you guys a few home truths,’ I start, with just the hint of the superior smile. ‘You’ve got a good teacher here’ – and I carelessly wave my hand towards Johnny without looking at him – ‘but you know what they say about teachers. He’ll claim to have taught you everything you know – but he won’t teach you everything he knows. He’s gotta keep something up his sleeve just so that he can slap you down when it’s necessary. So sometime or other you’re gonna have to leave this cozy little dojo and test yourself in the real world of NHB mixed martial arts – and I have to tell you, it’s tough out there, real tough, and many of you won’t be up to it. I can tell that even by looking at you, I kid you not. So tonight, consider me an ambassador from Reality, here to give you a sample of what it’s like. I promise you, I’ll give you a fucking hard time, because that’s what it’s all about. Okay. So who’s up first for a bout?’

Johnny has a pained look on his face. ‘Eddie, this isn’t –’

‘I’m up for it,’ says this bright-eyed young guy, no more than twenty I swear.

Johnny turns to the kid. ‘Ferdie, I don’t think you realize –’

I raise my voice. ‘If the kid wants to fight, Mr. Lewin, that’s his fucking decision. Let’s get it on!’ Johnny’s jaw drops open and before he can put words together I lead the way to the mat.

So what’s this Ferdie like? Cute, I’d have to say, about my height, a few pounds lighter maybe, black curly hair, and an expectant look on his face. Well, not for long, because before he even has time to shape up properly, I give out a guttural roar and rush him, tripping him to the mat and falling heavily on him. I immediately mount him and grapevine both his legs with ridiculous ease. I leer down at him. Clearly he was expecting a bit of introductory push and shove and he’s taken aback by the ferocity of my attack. ‘So show us what you’ve got, kid!’

He tries to throw me off but I bring him to heel by stretching his legs in the grapevine. He gives a yelp of pain. ‘Pretty pathetic huh?’ I sneer at him, and give him a slap across the face. ‘Welcome to Reality, bitch!’

‘Hey, no head shots!!’ says Johnny, who is sounding pretty anxious, as if he’s losing control of his own gym.

‘You call that a head shot?’ I say in disbelief. And I give the kid another slap. Have to say, he doesn’t like it one little bit, but can’t really do much about it.

But before Johnny can say anything more, I give up the grapevine and move to the side mount, covering him and positioning my mouth near his ear. ‘You’re as weak as piss, kid,’ I spit in his ear, so no one else can hear, and nibble the lobe just to drive the point home.

Right now the kid is just about shitting himself. He knows he’s out of his depth and he realizes that I am one mean fucker. I’ve got one knee on his stomach holding him down while I work his arm, my other knee against his jaw. I’m playing with armbars, working him one way, then another, never actually putting the armbar on full force, but making him appreciate that I can snap it on at any time of my choosing.

I can see Johnny looking concerned at my behavior on the mat and I give him a conspiratorial wink which really throws him. Returning my attention to the unfortunate Ferdie I give him my most irritating smirk. ‘Guess we better put you out of your misery, huh?’

And in one swift movement I lean back, extending his arm; simultaneously I throw my legs across his body, the heel of my right foot kind of ‘accidentally’ coming down across his face, and bend his arm back. ‘I’ll snap it!!’ I tell him.

The kid screams and taps pronto. I release the hold slowly and am pleased to notice that my careless heel has given him a bit of a blood nose. ‘Only kidding, Ferdie,’ I chuckle, giving him a helping hand to lift him to his feet. ‘Sorry about your schnozzle but like I said this is not a game for pussies.’

Ferdie mutters something and shuffles off to the locker room. I look around at the group expectantly. ‘So who’s the next cab off the rank?’

Johnny intervenes. ‘Renato, why don’t you oblige Mr. Branca.’

‘Sure Johnny, it’d be a pleasure.’ Renato comes forward. He’s one big dude, 200 pounds at least, with a bucket-shaped head and crew-cut, and a bodybuilder’s frame. I guess him to be late twenties, so he’s been around. He’s wearing loose sprawl shorts and is barefoot, except for black foot guards. You can tell Renato thinks he’s pretty good, probably the heavyweight of the group, and clearly Johnny is counting on his weight advantage taking its toll on li’l ole me.

Fact is, of course, there’s nothing I like better than beating up on big guys, particularly when I’m confident that I’ve got the technique to handle them – and sizing Renato up, noting the slightly vacant look in his eyes, I have already come to the conclusion that he’s not exactly well equipped in the top story.

Renato offers the ritual paw to tap before we start but I take no notice. ‘Okay big boy,’ I growl, ‘let’s see how good you are.’

Renato lumbers towards me in a primitive attempt at a takedown and I meet him with a knee lifted high into his gut. He grunts and stops in his tracks and I quickly sink a short right into his solar plexus. His eyes open in surprise as he starts to double up, just giving me enough time to get another knee in. Next thing he’s sitting on his big fat butt, trying to get some air into his lungs, and I come down on him, going to mount him. Instinctively, and unthinkingly, he turns onto his stomach to protect his bruised abs.

Well, this is a gift. The guy is, as they say, giving me his back, and naturally I climb on board. He’s on his knees, trying to throw me off, but already I’ve got the hooks in, my legs entwined around his body, securing my position. Now I can dish out the punches to his body, softening him up, breathing down his neck. It’s not long before I break him down, flattening him out. It’s cat and mouse stuff now, and I don’t immediately go for the choke, preferring to let him stew in his own fear of the inevitable, but every now and then sinking a nasty punch into his side. And in this position my crotch is pressing hard on his ass and yeah, my prong is getting seriously interested.

‘You don’t deserve to be on the same mat as me,’ I snarl into his ear, ‘you fucking piece of mongrel shit!’

Renato reacts unfavorably to this but he’s helpless and, frankly, demoralized. Looking up at Johnny I can tell he knows I’ve said something to Renato but hasn’t heard it. I give Johnny a wicked smile.

Now, in Eddie’s book, there is nothing as beautiful as a rear naked choke, and Renato knows that’s what I’ll be going for. But I take my time, every now and then sinking a few more punches in to the body. When I finally make my move Renato positions his hands to block my attempt to get my arm around his throat. I try one arm, then the other, but he fends them off. Well there’s one remedy for this. I wrap my forearm across his face instead of his throat and start lifting his head off the mat, almost as if I’m going for what the pro wrestlers call a camel clutch. He tries to force my arm away and this gives me the opportunity to slip my other arm around his throat.

Beautiful! I quickly lock up the choke. ‘You’re going out, big boy,’ I whisper in his ear. And I’m as good as my word. I take him out so quick Renato isn’t even able to tap out. I can feel the limpness of this big hunk of flesh and my cock is registering its satisfaction pressed into his asscrack.

‘Let him go, Eddie,’ says Johnny angrily, ‘he’s out to it!’

I oblige, but kinda slow. ‘Yeah,’ I say with a grin and give Renato a ‘friendly’ slap on the butt as I get to my feet, ‘well that was the general idea.’

‘I have to say I don’t care for your attitude,’ says Johnny through gritted teeth.

‘I’ll make a note of that in our interview,’ I reply.

‘Johnny, I’d like the opportunity of taking on Mister Branco.’ The guy who steps forward is older, perhaps late thirties, a bit taller than me, bit heavier, good wrestler’s body, poker face, penetrating black eyes. He’s a cool customer. I recognize that this guy has something that the others haven’t got. I feel a charge of adrenaline.

‘Sure, Nick, and I reckon Mister Branco may be running out of steam,’ says Johnny.

I give a snigger. ‘In your dreams, sweetheart. I haven’t even cracked a sweat yet.’ Which is not entirely true.

‘I think you’re all piss and wind, Branco,’ says Nick.

‘I don’t give a fuck what you think, dickhead. Let’s get it on!’

And I’ll hand it to Nick, the fucker gets it on, lunging at me in an attempt to take me down. I sprawl to prevent that and go for the guillotine choke. Nick knows what I’m up to and shrugs me off. We’re scrambling for position now, and when he makes another lunge I’m off balance and he starts to take me down.

But I’ve got just enough time to position my knee so that as he comes down on top of me it collects him in the balls. ‘Aw fuck!!!’ he groans.

And it’s easy enough for me to roll him over on his back and mount him, stretching him out with a double leg grapevine. And just to be tasty I’m rubbing my face against his, with my stubbled chin digging into his right eye. ‘You’re fuckin’ dead meat, Nick!’ I whisper in his lilywhite.

While he’s still coming to terms with Eddie Branco’s dirty tricks, I spread out his right arm and pass my right leg over it, locking it behind his neck and quickly securing a figure four head scissors. I’ve got the bugger on toast! Nick suddenly realizes his predicament. For the first time there’s a look of fear in his eyes. Looking down on him I blow him a kiss and then wrap my hands around his head, forcing it into my thigh for the choke. I take him out slow. To his credit Nick doesn’t tap.

Seeing a guy totally in my power, losing consciousness, always turns me on. And of course my cock is in there, pressing against his neck.

‘Get off him!’ yells Johnny. He sounds just a tad angry.

Reluctantly I release Nick from the figure four. ‘Sleeping like a fuckin’ baby!’ I murmur as I get to my feet, rearranging the heavy equipment in my trunks just to emphasize what a good time I’ve been having. Nick is already coming to, though I reckon he’s not too sure where he is. Renato and Ferdie help him to his feet.

I go up to Johnny, chesting him, face to face. And man, is he pissed off!

‘And those faggots are your best, huh?’ I say with the patented Branca sneer.

‘Fuck the interview,’ snarls Johnny. ‘You and I are gonna sort this out here and now.’

‘So you finally figured it out!’ I laugh. ‘That’s the purpose of the exercise, Johnnyboy! I’ve been wanting to sort you out for a long time.’

TO BE CONTINUED: Read Part 2!

Email your comments on the story to Mean Rick.

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