Watch Out What You Wish For   revised   
By Beaten Man -  Replies to humbled@abeatenman.com 
I really wanted to put the gloves on with Peg and act out my fantasy


This is difficult for me to write. Though my body has healed my mind has not
The few months that have passed since " the incident" as I like to call it
have done little to help me gain back my self respect or my equilibrium. I
have gone over it a thousand times in my mind and still I cannot lay it to
rest. I am hoping that by recording, as carefully as I can, what occured I
will finally get the bitter taste out of my mouth. Perhaps confession will
prove to be my catharsis.

Probably I should begin with a little history. I have been married to the same
woman [let's call her Peg to protect our identities] for almost 25 years. We
have raised two children and each of us are now in our late fourties. We have
a decent enough relationship, one that was for the most part traditional. She
remained a homemaker until the youngest of our two children was 12. Her
domestic skills are outstanding, the perfect wife. I was the breadwinner and
titular head of household. We are a typical, suburban yuppie, middle class,
white collar Family

Our relationship slowly began changing when my wife reentered the work force.
As she advanced at work she became more independent and demanded more
assistance from the kids and I in keeping the house in order. This was not a
problem as I appreciated the financial help that her working had brought. We
remained close as our relationship evolved into a partnership between two
mature adults. The few differences we encountered were easily resolved by
compromise.

Our sex life was really good, particularly early, in our relationship. We made
love nightly for many years. That ardour slowly faded with the passage of time
and by now we were down to Birthdays , anniversarys and the romantic holidays.
We each pursued our own hobbies. Mine revolved around trying to keep myself in
as good a shape as a middle aged guy could be. I took up Karate at 30 and
advanced to Black belt instructor by my 40th Birthday. I jogged and did
calisthenics daily.

I was in the Dojo 4 to 5 days a week and the gym the rest. I was in the best
shape of my life at 45.

My wife pursued more spiritual undertakings in order to stay in shape. She was
and is a yoga enthusiast. She fleshes out her physical maintenance with a
treadmill, some lite aerobics, Jazzersize and Tae Bo. She too is in excellent
shape for a woman of 47 though she does carry the ring of flesh around her
middle that child bearing will bring. Daily ab training hasn't been able to
remove those stubborn love handles. She loves to keep herself constantly busy
working. She's always active with cleaning, gardening and other such chores.
All of which serve to help her stay strong.

Physically we are quite unalike. I stand almost 6' tall and weigh 200 pounds.
I have a medium build. I am harder than most men my age and a bit leaner than
my weight would lead you to believe. My wife is 5"7" tall and weighs a sturdy
150. She, like all her family members, is big boned, not overly muscular but
solid. She has gained about 15 pounds from when we first met. As I stated we
both kept ourselves in relatively good shape. neither of us were zealots - we
just liked staying healthy. That is probably where our troubles began.

As I approached 46 I gave up the Karate training - I found the Kicks too
strenuous and besides at my age I was not going to be the second coming of Jet
Li. I also stopped jogging to preserve my knees. I continued my daily
calistenics for a while but that eventually gave way to twice weekly sessions
just to keep "toned". I only get to the gym now about twice a month. I have
sold my business and now work from my home. My wifes daily physical routine
has remained mostly uinchanged

About 6 months ago my wife began nagging me to get back to a more structured
training regimen. She believed I was laying around the house smoking too many
cigarettes and swilling too many beers when I should have been maintaining
myself.. I argued that I was still in great shape and still capable of giving
most people a serious ass kicking. She disagreed , claiming I was kidding
myself if I didn't think that what she called my laziness wasn't effecting me.

A few nights later at dinner, as we were bickering over my "problem" [by then
it was a nightly discussion], she shocked me by saying that she didn't feel I
would ever be able to resume serious training. When I asked why she said that
I might still have decent short term energy but that my reserves would be too
depleted for the long stretches of cardio exertion that are required to
produce the real strength and stamina needed in combat. I might still have my
knowledge, but lack of practice would seriously erode my ability to execute.
She went on to say that she didn't think I could last through 3 rounds of
sparring with one of my former students. I said maybe if my student was Mike
Tyson I couldn't but with any normal athlete I could easily go ten. That is if
they could. That's when she crossed the line and fired back that I wouldn't be
able to go ten full rounds with anyone in decent shape, not even her..

I was both pissed and amused at the same time. I told her she was right. If
she was my opponent I couldn't go ten rounds. I said I couldn't because she'd
never make it through the first one.

She really looked hurt that I thought so little of her as a potential sparring
partner. She was particularly upset with my condescending attitude. She stood
to clear the dinner table and said "we should find out". I warned that she
should pray we never did and that she should be glad I wasn;t taking her
seriously. That seemed to end the discussion and I tried to put it out of my
mind as my wife went about her chores.

Somehow I couldn't though. The thought of my wife in a pair of boxing gloves
was, I am ashamed to say, arousing. I'm into that foxy boxing stuff. Just
thinking of her that way made me desire her in a way I hadn't in years. I
guess devotees of this Website understand - I though didn't and was as
troubled as I was excited. I almost felt guilty for my thoughts. I had always
dreamed of matches with women like Leila Ali or Serena Williams. Large, strong
professional fighters or athletes who would be formidable opponents. Beautiful
women who would battle valiently before finally succombing to me. Then after
the sweat drenched match they would beg their new master for passionate sex.
I'd never thought of most women that way , certainly not my soccer mom wife.
Now, I really wanted to put the gloves on with Peg and act out my fantasy.
Only my fear of hurting her in order to enjoy some erotic fantasy kept me from
pushing the subject.

I was prepared to forget the whole thing, but the next night Peg was at it
again. We went back and forth for a few minutes and then she laid the
bombshell on me. She said she had thought about what I had said and, as she
put it, I was as full of shit as I was of myself. She said she was confident
in her assessment of my stamina and, whats more, was challenging me to a ten
round boxing match. She actually said challenging. Who talks like that?

I laughed at her and said - you make the arrangements sweetheart but if you
do, remember - you asked for it. I was, as I see it now, goading her. I
figured that I could make her quit with out hurting her too badly. I was more
concerned with the hot sex I fantasized would follow my quick victory.

She really floored me next by saying that she had reserved a ring for the
coming Thursday at the YMCA where she attended various Cardio classes . She
said if I had nerve enough to be there at noon we'd test her theory. I was, to
say the least, elated. I looked her squarely in the eye and said "sweetie pie
you have a date" I finished with something lame like I hope you know what
you're doing.

That ended the discussion and it was not mentioned again the following morning
which was Wednesday. We ate breakfast together as we had every day since the
kids moved out.. Peg went to work around 9:00 . I puttered around the house a
while thinking about my wifes motivation for such a suicidal act. I was all
for it but then again I wasn't the one who was going to get hit. She must have
assumed that being a gentleman I really wouldn't hit her. I had never hurt any
of the women I sparred with at the Dojo. She knew in our sparring we pulled
our punches and our kicks. But this was different. Did she really believe that
I couldn't sustain 30 minutes of Cardio that was interrupted by 10 one minute
rest periods? And she'd been so formal, I challenge you, she'd said. Did she,
who knew me best, feel I had deteriorated that far?

My motivation for indulging Peg was understandable. It turned me on And
besides, I really wanted to force Peg to give up so that she would have to
admit she was wrong about me. That was one of the things we occassionaly
argued about. Both of us accused the other of not admitting it when he or she
was wrong. Now I could just walk around the ring for 10 rounds as she futilely
swatted at me and prove her wrong about my stamina. But if I did she might not
apologize. And besides, that wouldn't satisy my sexual desires, Both my desire
for eroticism and my desire to make Peg submit meant I'd have to really get
her to fight and would have to hit her at least once. Could I really hit the
mother of my children? If she wants me to my mind rationalized.

I gave up trying to figure out my wifes motives and decided to go the Y for an
hour or so and see if 30 minutes of strenuous exercise really could really
prove too much for me. As I arrived I noticed the Tae Bo class Peg sometimes
attended was underway. Cardio seemed the way to go so I joined in the class.

I was new to the routine , I started slow doing everything at half speed as I
learned what punch or kick followed in order. The entire class consisted of
alternating squats with punches, hand movements and kicks done to a martial
beat. Before long I had the hang of it and was up to class speed. I was
impressed with the technique required to do the punches. If Peg was attending
this class she would at least have a rudimentary knowledge of how to hold her
hands and how to throw a punch. She should have good stamina too. Those are
useful skills in boxing though I doubted this limited knowledge would be very
helpful against someone as experienced as me. Even if that experience was in
karate and not, strictly speaking, boxing I was still match hardened. In any
match you not only have to know how to hit, you have to know how to be hit.
Taking a punch will sap your strength faster than you can say ouch.

After about 20 minutes I grew tired from the non stop movement so I decided to
swim for a while to finish up my required half hour. I put on my bathing suit
and grabbed a lane in the lap pool. I spent the next 20 minutes slowly
swimming laps. I had now been active for 45 minutes and I was still feeling
great. Peg was nuts. There wasn't anything wrong with me.

It was my night to get dinner so I gave up my lane and changed back into my
shorts. As I was leaving I spied Peg on the treadmill, in for her afternoon
walk. She liked to spend an hour each day briskly walking. She joked that it
gave her young legs. I stopped by the treadmill and made small talk for a few
minutes. I joked that I had just completed my training camp, Peg looked
annoyed. The tension was obvious so I left.

At home that night we ate dinner together in silence, each with our thoughts
of the next days pending activity. I didn't know what was on Pegs mind but I
was thinking - this was too good to be true . I'd let her hit me once or twice
to keep it interesting and then I'd punch her just hard enough in the gut to
make her cry Uncle. I was sure she couldn't hurt me and I was experienced
enough not to hurt her. A few minutes of activity and then the torrid sex we
hadn't had in a while would follow. Thinking back I am reminded of the old
saying. Be careful what you wish for. It may come true.

Thursday morning came and I was up at the crack of dawn. I couldn't wait for
noon.. I made a pot of coffee and then yelled upstairs for Peg to come down
and rattle those pots and pans as I liked to put it. I had a ravenous
appetite. Peg was quiet as she prepared our eggs. she seemed lost in thought.
As we ate Peg became a little more talkative. So will I see you at noon she
suddenly asked. Absolutely I said. I wouldn't miss this opportunity for the
world. This is every husbands dream come true. His wife in front of him and a
get out of jail free card to hit her. After 25 years you've earned a few
shots. You've earned one or two yourself my wife retorted. I couldn't resist
asking her why she was so intent on commmitting Hari Kari. It's that attitute
she replied. That cock suredness that I am so physically inferior to you. You
may think that I am a joke but I assure you I am not. I never said you were a
joke I replied. You're attitude says otherwise she shot back.

I didn't want an argument so I changed the subject slightly. At the Gym
yesterday I did 45 straight minutes of training. Your premise that I am out of
shape is blown to smithereens.

Is it she responded. I watched you. You did 1/3 of a cardio class and then
loafed around the pool for 20 minutes. What does that prove? You can Float? It
proves I still have stamina I said.

What about you. Do you really think some pumped up jazzersize class and a
daily walk qualifies you to step in the ring with someone like me. Whats going
to happen when I hit you?

Look she said. I grew up with 4 brothers. My dad made all of us settle our
disputes by putting on the gloves. I always gave as good as I got. I know what
its like to be hit by a boy. Maybe so I countered, but I'm a man.not a boy and
I outweigh you by 50 pounds . I am just a lot better than you. That last line
was said solely with the intent of angering her. Common decency required that
I try to talk her out of her foolishness but you and I both know I really
didn't want her to change her mind.

My minds made up Peg said. as if on cue. If you want to back out just say so.
Stop making up excuses. Backing out is the last thing on my mind, I said. I
was just making sure you realized the consequences of what your doing. If
you,re good with it I'm all for it. Then I teased that I would kiss the boo
boos when I was finished just to keep her irritated. Nothing else was said on
the subject. about 9 am Peg said she had a few errands to run and she'd see me
later for our "date"

I put on a pair of black stretch workout shorts, a tee shirt and a pair of
flip flops and then hung around the house until it was time to leave I arrived
at the Y about 20 minutes before our scheduled bout. I was surprised to see my
wife already there walking on a treadmill. I went into the private by
reservation only ring room to await the appointed time. I saw no reason to
warm up as I was convinced I wouldn't be working up a sweat. I paced around
the ring anxious for the minutes to pass. At precisely 11:55 Peg and a woman I
did not know entered the room. They were carrying 2 pairs of 8 ounce gloves,
some tape and our mouthpieces. Peg introduced the woman as Debbie [another
fictitous name]. Debbie was a coworker of Pegs. She was to help wrap our hands
and lace up the gloves. Once the fight began she was to count at knockdowns,
help with our mouthpieces and bring us water between rounds.

I joked that if Debbie was counting at the knockdowns she would be the busiest
person in the room. Before Peg could reply Debbie suddenly blurted, "you were
serious about this Peg?. What if you get hurt? If either of us is hurt, and
Peg stressed the either, you call for help. To me Peg just said - last chance
to back out hon.. I loved her attitude, It made it seem almost like a real
fight.

I laughed at Peg to throw a little coal on the fire.

Debbie proceeded to wrap first Pegs hands and then mine. After that she helped
us both lace up the Red Gloves. We agreed to both be barefoot. I would wear my
black shorts. Peg wore a stretchy pair of black leotard half trunks. She was
braless but had on a gray sleeveless undershirt to cover her still firm medium
sized boobs. She really looked quite impressive standing there in her boxing
attire.. The sleeveless shirt tended to emphasize the thickness of her arms.
Peg had those kind of arms that don't appear muscular.because they're the same
size flexed or unflexed In a blouse they just looked fleshy but in a tee shirt
their girth was noticible. Her breasts under the clingy material and the love
handles were the only part of her that didn't look hard. Her legs and neck
were solid and powerful looking. I don't know why I never noticed before that
my wife, unlike most women, did not appear frail. If she was facing any of
those so called Hard Bodies, those tall, skinny young chicks who spend 3 hours
in the gym every day, I would have easily made Peg the heavy favorite..

As Debbie finished lacing up my gloves, feeling guilty, I gave Peg one last
chance to reconsider. Peg eased my consious by repeating the backing out
bullshit, telling me I had the same opportunity. Her attitude was making it
easier for me to contemplate striking my woman.

Her formidable appearance made me feel like less of a bully. Even if I was a
head taller and 50 pounds heavier with muscles that did grow when I flexed.

Peg pounded her gloved fists together as we both stood from our stools -
Debbie rang the bell.

What follows is as unadorned a rehashing of the match as I can manage;

Round One:

We approached each other from opposite corners until we were about 3 feet
apart in the center of the ring. We both were in classic boxer stances with my
wife holding her right guard about nose high, just behind her lead left. She
at least looked like a boxer. I had my arms fairly far out in front of me. At
the time I wanted to make sure that I didn't hit her hard enough to make her
quit before it got interesting. I figured with my arms extended it would take
the force out of my punches while leaving her an open target to hit. I began
the action by pawing lightly at her face.. She easily blocked the jab so I
threw a soft punch towards her middle which she ignored and let through. I
paused to see if she was still game. Peg than threw her first punch, a left
jab that she basically pushed towards my face. I ignored that tap but then she
threw a quick looping right which slapped hard against my left ear. That made
my ear ring and angered me a bit. I brought my hands up a little higher and
closer to my body and prepared to make my wife submit. I jabbed towards her
face 2 or 3 times, more as feints to get both her hands up high, and then
threw a decent punch at her belly. She grunted as it landed and moved back. I
stepped in and landed a jab high on her forhead which caused her to back up
still further. After the 2 steps back she was out of range so I stopped to see
if she would quit. As soon as my punches stopped she began throwing her own as
she literally jumped to try and reach my jaw with a looping right. That missed
but she continued swinging , ten punches at least, until she finally hit me
square on the nose. That smarted so I brough my fists up to protect against
another. With that Peg threw 4 more hooks, rapid fire,to my stomach. She
wasn't really hurting me but she had scored and I felt that made me appear
foolish. I began throwing punches in earnest. Peg bobbed and weaved staying
low and underneath my punches. She really could box. Occasionaly, after
slipping my jab she would either throw a hook towards my ribs or a jab to my
nose. Before I could get through her guard with any of my heavier punches the
bell sounded the end of the round.

We returned to our corners and I was steaming. Peg had actually survived the
round with me, and to be honest, had probably stolen it with her strong flurry
in the middle I was sure I would never hear the last of it. As if on schedule
Peg teased that someone had once said she couldn't go one round. As we stared
at each other from our stools across the ring I said she wouldn't last
another. "No more love taps, from here on out your getting punched" I said Peg
replied that I should "bring it on if I could" I thought to myself If thats
what she wants thats what she'll get. She had displayed decent boxing skills
and a fair punch. I no longer felt like I was picking on a defenseless
opponent. I would give her the courtesy of going after her for real. The
competition would make my inevitable victory seem more satsifying.

Round Two

At the bell I strode forward prepared to punch her out. I threw stiff jabs
enough of which got through to get her back pedalling. I was the far more
match experienced fighter and was able to keep her too busy defending herself
to throw any punches. This assault went on for a minute or so until I had to
pause to catch my breath. When I did Peg stepped in and again began throwing
another 10 punch flurry. Nothing much got through but she was numbing my arms
while using my own tactic against me. She was keeping me too busy to attack.
After about a minute she slowed in order to preserve energy. I again moved
forward behind my jab. After one got through I was able to land another body
shot and followed that with an awkward right that smacked her cheek. That got
her into full retreat. This should be all she wrote I thought,

I pursued her into the neutral corner where she covered her face with both
hands. This allowed me to punch underneath at my preferred target, her
stomach. She grunted as my punches landed but kept her arms up preventing me
from scoring head shots. Once again I tired so I sterpped back to catch a
breath. To my surprise Peg immediately started throwing another flurry.
Several of those punches landed to my head. They felt harder than the punches
she'd landed in the 1st round. I attempted to retaliate but Pegs defense,
though a trifle unorthodox, was adequate enough to protect her until the bell
sounded.

We stood staring at one another for a few moments and then she abrubtly turned
and returned to her stool. I followed to mine. Debbie offered us both water
which we each readily accepted..

As I sat it suddenly occured to me that not only had Peg survived 1 round -
she now had survived 2 and it didn't look like she would quit unless I really
hurt her. It still did not occur to me that anyone other than myself could be
victorious. I was more than a little winded by then and the sweat was
unexpectedly already flowing. As I looked at Peg she was also drawing deep
breathes and was covered in a thin film of perspiration. The thin shirt she
wore was drenched and clinging to her like a second skin, Her nipples were
hard and practically forcing themselves through the coarse material. To me she
looked incredible. Too bad I thought that I would probably have to knock her
down to make her quit. I gave it another shot and asked her if she wanted to
give up. She laughed and said I'd shown her nothing that would indicate I
could finish 10 rounds. But if I wanted to admit I wasn't in decent enough
shape she was willing to call it a draw. I told her I couldn't accept that - I
would need to hear an apology. That was your last chance she said under her
breath... We quietly stared at one anothert for the rest of the break. The
only sound the occassional smacking together of Pegs gloves

Round Three

As I arose from my stool I decided that as much as I hated to appear like I
was really trying in the match I had no choice. It's funny now, thinking back,
that I considered even having to try a blow to my ego. As we approached each
other I came out aggresively behind a stiff left jab. I wasn't throwing
wildly. I studied her hands and at just the right moment I popped a double
jab. The second jab landed flush and I followed with a right cross which
actually turned Pegs body toward the ropes. I managed to get in another short
punch to her exposed kidney before her momentum turned her all the way around.
As I tried to get around in front of her to get in another shot she continued
moving around me until my back was to her and she could retreat. Damn - I was
sure I had her. I turned prepared to chase her across the ring. She surprised
me again. She charged at me with both hands swinging. She was like a buzzsaw.
Her hands were really quick. These were decent punches coming in non stop from
every angle. She punched like that for a full minute. Probably only 1 in 3
actually landed and even though individually the punches didn't rock me they
were having a cumulative effect. My nose had gotten bloodied forcing me to
breath through my mouth. Improper breathing would sap my energy quickly. My
left eye was also swelling. That would be making it difficult to see her
rights coming She finally ran out of steam for the moment and I had the
opportunity to get my fists moving again. I tried throwing a haymaker at her
jaw but I missed badly as she ducked under it. A follow up hook landed by her
right eye just as as the bell to end round 3 clanged.

Unlike the previous round Peg returned quickly to her stool and asked Debbie
to come to her corner. I remember thinking my last punch had made her want to
quit. That was okay with me. This wasn't turning out as I had fantasized. Peg
was proving to be a much more skilled boxer than I would have ever believed.
The only part that was fulfilled from my fantasy was the sweat. I was drenched
in it and I was by now breathing a bit raggedly. I didn't find being this
tired with a bloody nose, a black eye and a ringing ear very sexual.

But quitting wasn't what was on my wifes mind. The sweat on her breasts was
making them sore where the tight tee shirt pressed her nipples. She simply
wanted Debbie to pull the shirt away from her chest. To alleviate the problem
Debbie removed the shirt over Pegs head and applied a few dabs of vaseline to
ease the irritation. Pegs remarkably perfect tits would be distracting me for
the remainder of the bout. Debbie then gave us each a sip of water and wiped
away the blood that was now trickling from both our faces.

The two of us sat in our respective corners gulping air as Debbie went about
her chores. I used the minute break to formulate a new plan. I was now forced
to admit that I was being extended by my much smaller wife. The fact that we
were about to enter round 4 on a more or less even footing was proof enough of
that. I could not deny the obvious. My wife now had my grudging respect as a
combatant. I was resolved to using my size and experience to wear her down. I
wasn't happy that it had come this far but I now felt I would have to knock
Peg out to salvage my ego.

Round Four

The bell brought me out of my reverie. I arose to meet my wife who was already
standing bare chested in the center of the ring. I approached with my fists
held high and my elbows tucked in toward my ribs. My right was cocked to
follow my jab. Peg awaited in her now familiar stance with her two gloved
fists in front of her face. I tried dancing around my wife and firing jabs
from different angles. I hoped to confuse her. It worked to a point. I was
able to get through the occassional jab but the constant dancing motion made
the follow up rights I planned awkward to deliver. For her part Peg seemed
content to keep her hands up and retreat from the jabs, countering
occasionally. I was probably winning the round but I was expending far too
much energy and causing way too little damage. After a minute I decided to
change strategies and began throwing straight left jabs and short right
uppercuts towards Pegs unprotected middle. These got through but each time I
punched at her middle she threw a punch back at the unprotected area above my
outstretched arm. We were now in effect trading punches. Mine to her middle,
hers to my head. This tit for tat exchange continued for a good 90 seconds
with neither of us giving ground or gaining an advantage. I have always been
considered a hard puncher, I was amazed that Peg could not only stand up to my
blows but could return fire as well. I was sure my punches hurt her, I could
hear the grunts when they landed. - she was just determined to prove she was
my equal. The crispness of the punches she was landing in return had my head
reeling. By now most of the round was over and the fatigue in my legs and arms
was telling me it was time for a break. I abruptly broke off the exhange and
stepped back to catch my breath. Peg stepped forward into the space I had
vacated. I brought my tired arms up to protect my bruised face as she
advanced. This left my stomach open so Peg threw a flurry of rights and lefts
towards my middle. She was still hitting me when the bell rang.

We were again left staring at each other when the action ended. We stood
silently toe to toe for a moment and then we both turned and returned to our
stools. I sat heavily and asked Debbie for some water. As I drank Peg remarked
that I was puffing real hard and didn't look at all like a man who was going
to fight six more rounds. In spite of four futile rounds, at least three of
which I'd lost, the only thing I could think of to say to her in return was
yet another threat of the damage I would cause her in the next round. I
sounded Macho but I was now forced to formulate a strategy that would allow me
to conserve enough energy to last six rounds if neccessary and yet still
expend enough to finally stop my wife. To say I was confused would be a gross
understatement. I was shocked to find myself in such a competitive fight. I
couldn't decide whether to be a boxer or a slugger. Each plan had its
advantages and each had its drawbacks. While I was deciding the bell rang
signalling another round.

Round Five

As we moved torward each other I heard Debbie exhort us both to give the other
hell. I was struck by how odd this situation must appear to her. A man against
a woman in the ultimate contest of physical superiority. A husband and a wife
no less. Where she had seemed concerned for Pegs well being when she first
arrived she was now utterly transfixed by the combat unfolding in front of
her. I glanced over Pegs shoulder at Debbie. She was staring wide eyed with
her mouth agape The fingers on her right hand were absent mindedly making slow
circles around her nipple area. I could see one of them clearly outlined
against her blouse. I remember wondering which of us was arousing her. I hoped
it was me but somehow I didn't think so.

My contemplation of Debbie was rudely interupted as my wife began throwing
stiff jabs in my direction. I was still catching my breath from the last round
and was not yet prepared to throw my own punches. I backed up protecting
myself and waited for Peg to run out of steam. She didn't and my lack of
response encouraged her as she began throwing jabs and rights in 2 and 3 punch
combinations. I backed up until I felt the ropes against my back. No way I was
letting her pin me against the ropes. I shoved her roughly to get her moving
backward and then gave chase throwing thunderous punches at my retreating
wife. I landed one to her jaw and she flew back toward the ropes I moved in
and she clinched to prevent my follow up. We wrestled along the ropes for a
few moments and then Peg returned my earlier favor by pushing me away. I
stepped forward as Peg moved off the ropes. We actually collided with each
other. Pegs naked breasts were pressed against my ribs, her head lay against
my chest I leaned into her and laid my cheek on her head. We were now in a
position where neither of us could punch the others head. Our sides and
stomachs were a different story. We began alternatingly pounding each others
side with our left fists. Soon we were also throwing rights, pounding at one
anothers body. We circled in this weird dance almost like a couple dancing to
a romantic tune. Our bodies were crushed together as we moved against one
another. The constant punching was taking its toll my arms were aching, my
sides were on fire and I needed rest. I began to retreat but Peg just pushed
forward keeping her head buried in my chest and punching my body as she
advanced. As we reached the ropes she pulled her head back and threw a left
right uppercut combination to my now exposed chin. Both punches landed pushing
my face skyward. Peg took advantage of the situation and threw her hardest
punch of the fight, a tremendous right which landed in the center of my
undefended stomach. I gasped and grabbed Peg with both arms around her
shoulders as the air rushed from my lungs. I was hanging on desperately ,
leaning in to her and pushing her back across the ring. I managed to get her
moving backwards enough to allow me shove to her away and resume a fighting
stance.. We exchanged rights hands and I caught her with a stiff left jab just
above her right eye as the bell sounded.

Our battle was now half over and my wife was not only still standing -she was
winning . She had actually had me hanging on in that last round. I couldn't
wait to get to my stool. I practically pleaded for Debbie to bring me some
water. I took stock of myself. My nose was now bleeding profusely, neither
nostril was working. I had a mouse under my rapidly closing left eye and a
bruise over my right. My lips felt swollen. I had angry welts on my stomach,
chest and sides. my arms seemed as though they were carrying 100 lb weights ,
I was completly drenched in sweat and my breath was coming in gasps. Not a
pretty sight. I remember thinking that at the dojo they would have stopped
this fight . I would have already lost by TKO. I couldn't believe it but Peg
was badly outclassing me boxing. She was right about one thing-I wasn't in
shape to keep up this pace for 10 rounds

Peg too showing the signs of battle Her normally well groomed shoulder length
auburn hair was matted to her forehead and stood out wildly in all directions.
She had deep bruises on her stomach and sides. Her upper lip was puffed out
and she had a huge welt by her left eye. She was bathed in a glowing halo of
perspiration. The sweat dripped from her head and stood out as beads on her
vaseline smeared breasts. A single drop of sweat clinging to her nipple
elongated then fell to the ground. The muscles in her upper arms, now pumped
from exertion, dripped beads of sweat that ran down her arms into her gloves.
She looked a mess and somehow glorious at the same time.

In my fantasy matches no one had ever battled me with more determination.

As we stared at one another the bell for round six sounded

Round Six

Energy conservation was now becoming a neccessity for both of us. In my own
sparring experiences I had never fought beyond 3 rounds and those were 2
minute rounds not 3 like

these were. I was deep into uncharted territory. Peg had no previous match
experience, at least none that I am aware of. She was also approaching an area
in which she was totally unfamiliar.

Her aerobic style training gave her some experience at least as far as
maintaining physical exertion for extended periods. That training did not
encompass recovering from 5 rounds of body blows.

When a fight is truly competitive, not merely sparring, it is generally the
better conditioned athlete that prevails. This match had been a fight almost
since the opening bell.

Where the previous rounds had featured almost non stop attacks from one or the
other of us this round was unfolding almost in slow motion with the two of us
cautiously probing each others defenses, each of us trying to ascertain the
others stamina and resolve. For my part I could not afford to expend precious
energy pounding away at Pegs raised arms or dancing around trying to dazzle
her with fancy footwork. I needed to ward off the punches she was throwing.

Before the fight I thought I would just walk through her blows. That wasn't at
all the reality.

I was being hurt by them and I needed to somehow protect my eye and nose from
further damage . As for Peg she could no longer afford the luxury of those
wild ten and twenty punch flurries. She would need to throw fewer punches and
connect with a higher percentage. I beleived she would also need to avoid
getting hit directly by any of my power shots if she were to survive the fight
and actually take me the full ten rounds.

There we were circling each other like two junkyard dogs with our fists raised
as we each looked for a clear opening.. Occassionaly one of us threw a probing
jab or feint but for the most part there was little contact. It dawned on me
that I was at a disadvantage if the contest continued this way. I would be
playing right into Pegs hands. I might be able to sustain enough energy to
finish the fight but the goal for me was not merely Finishing . A draw would
be devastating. I was the man, this was my wife standing in front of me. I had
to prove to both of us that I was the physically dominant partner. I had the
size and the experience, I had been the heavy favorite. I had to win
impressively.

So I ignored my fatigue and picked up the pace. I began throwing 2 and 3 jabs
instead of 1 hoping to overwhelm Pegs defenses. She reacted to my increased
activity with a novel strategy. As I jabbed she simply pulled her head back to
lessen the blows impact and fired a return shot to my face. She now was
willing to take a punch to land one. I tried an overhand right behind my jab
to Peg's chin. I stepped into the right handed punch to compensate for the
backward motion of her head as she absorbed the left jab. Finally a power
shot. I hoped the punch would KO her or at least knock her down. Instead it
propelled her across the ring into the turnbuckle. I followed immediately
throwing wildly at her head as she covered up in the corner. It was apparent
her head was still clear. Not wanting to waste my opportunity I switched
tactics and fired a right uppercut under Pegs elbows right in the soft middle
of her stomach. My fist pushed clear to the ab walls. The force of the blow
lifted Pegs heels off the ground as it completely doubled her over. She
balanced momentarily on her toes and my fist then dropped to the canvas on her
hands and knees.

I was elated. It had taken 6 rounds but I'd finally prevailed. I raised my
hands above my head , proclaiming my victory and sauntered toward my corner. I
heard Debbie begin the count. By four it had stopped. I turned to see what the
problem was. To my horror Peg was on her feet and heading straight for me. I
wearily stepped out of my corner to meet her. As she arrived she threw a
looping right and left combo toward the sides of my head which went right
around my too low guard.. The right just grazed my chin but the left landed
solidly to my cheek swiveling my head into her oncoming punch. The second
looping right exploded on my chin and sent me stumbling along the ropes, I
heard Debbie say wow as the punch landed. Peg chased me and landed a third
right to my jaw followed by a hard left to my solar plexus. The room was
spinning and I couldn't breath.

I felt numb and disoriented. I found myself laying on my side on the canvas.
She had knocked me down I was groggy and badly hurt. I rolled to my back and
stared up at my wife. . .. She was standing over me by my feet. Her brown eyes
open wide in surprise, her fists stilled raised and at the ready. From behind
me I heard Debbie moan softly. Peg stared down at me for what seemed an
eternity, the sweat from her heaving breasts dripping on my legs. Her eyes
were boring into mine. She gave me a self satisfied smirk then backed off
towards her corner.

I was completely deflated. The victory I thought assured just a few moments
ago had turned to bitter ashes. My sweet and formerly gentle soul of a wife
had sent me crashing to the ground. We had fought six brutal rounds and I was
sprawled on the canvas at her feet. I had been totally at her mercy. In the
measure of any fight, even if I got up, I was losing this one badly. Debbie
came out of her stupor and began the count. I was lucky. A good 10 seconds had
elapsed since Pegs last punch . The extra time had allowed me to clear my head
and get my body to obey my brain. By the time the count reached six I was on
my feet. Debbie continued to eight and then commanded us to resume fighting.
Just as Peg reached me from her corner the bell sounded mercifully ending the
round.

Exhausted I returned to my stool and collapsed on it, my head resting on the
ring post. For the first time in the match Peg remained standing during the
break. Was she trying to intimidate me by drawing a comparision to our
relative physical states? In reality it was her adrenalin rush that prevented
her from sitting. She was too pumped up to sit. I was just too confused at the
time to realize that. I was measuring everything she did by its effects on me.
After six grueling 3 minute rounds of almost constant physical contact we were
completely wrapped up in one another. No on else existed. Our world had shrunk
to a 12 by 12 ring we alone occupied. I could look at nothing else but her.
She returned my stare. At that moment I wanted her like I had never wanted any
woman before. My loins ached to penetrate her body and my mouth was hungry for
the taste of her breasts. I wanted to bury my face in her pussy until she
shreiked in ecstasy.

Involuntarily a moan escaped my lips. The moan brought Debbie out of her
fugue. She mistook it for pain. She dutifully asked me if I wished to
continue. I really didn't want to but surrender is not an option for the man
competing against his woman. Society says he must dominate. I had to continue.
If it killed me I had to somehow turn this situation around. Time remained for
me to redeem myself. Peg isn't superwoman, she's a wife and mother. She must
be tired and she must be hurting too. So what if I had been knocked down - the
measure of a man is whether he stands back up.

Calling on strength I didn't think I had I hauled myself off my stool. I had a
plan. I new I couldn't box another four rounds. Peg was too good and I was too
spent . I had to end it this round. If I could goad Peg into a slugfest her
boxing skill wouldn't protect her against my power. I could make this a test
of strength. I could still end this with a measure of dignity. I said to Peg
let''s settle this now". .Stop your running away trying to tire me out just to
prove your point. Stand and fight for a change. I'm more spent from trying to
find you every round than I am from the fighting. My plan worked like a charm.
Peg said angrily "you'll know exactly where to find me - I'll be right in
front of you". She moved out to the center of the ring even before the bell
sounded.

Round 7

At the bell to begin the round I approached my wife who was awaiting me in the
center of our private world. We locked eyes as I neared her. She stood
motionless, her gloved fists held low by her sides. I approached to within a
foot. We were so close I could feel her breath on my neck. Her erect nipples
brushed the hairs on my chest as she stepped into me, halving even that
distance.

We were nose to nose, our eyes fixed on one another, The trap was sprung. She
was right in front of me, I could hit her with my entire arsenel. We continued
staring as we each raised our fists. Then eyeball to eyeball and toe to toe we
started letting the leather fly. I felt my short punches hit her face and body
repeatedly and for each punch I rained on her Peg would answer with a crisp
one of her own. We battled furiously, neither of us giving ground, punch after
punch flew back and forth across the six inch divide that seperated us. What
was holding my wife up against my superior fire power?

The blood was flowing freely down my face, my ribs and stomach screamed for
air. My arms felt like I was holding anvils and still the punches flew. I
tried stepping back to get more punching room but Peg would have none of it.
She stepped forward and through gritted teeth said "I thought there would be
no running". The furious exchange continued .Pegs short, sharp punches were
chopping up my face and beating the breath right out of my body I gave up
another step and Peg again stepped forward keeping me right in front of her.
How could this be? Why was the stronger fighter retreating as the weaker
fighter advanced. .

My legs felt as though they were turning to jello , my vision was blurry and I
heard the sound of jet engines in my ears. And still the punches came. Nearly
blind now from the swelling in my eyes I could still see Pegs gaze fixed on
mine. My arms abandoned me, I could no longer punch. I continued stepping back
as Peg pressed forward . The retreat was now a rout I grabbed Peg around the
neck to try and get her punches to stop. She just kept moving forward shifting
her attack to my body. Her punches felt like sandbags as they drove into me..
Her magnificent tits bounced up and down and side to side as if keeping time
to her blows. The clouds were beginning to swirl in my head. Through this fog
the truth was emerging. The stronger fighter was advancing. The weaker was
retreating. I hadn't merely been outboxed, I 'd been out muscled as well.

I tried to avert Pegs stare, ashamed she'd see the fear in my blackened eyes.

Relentlessly she punched me back toward the ring ropes as I hung from her
body. I was helpless now, trapped against the ropes, unable to raise my arms
and unable to get away from my wifes overpowering attack . Soon the only thing
holding me up was Peg. I began sliding down off her sweaty body. I felt her
erect nipples poke first my lip, then my nose and then my eyes as my face slid
down her wet breasts. I drank her perfumed sweat as my mouth rode down the
valley between her globes to her stomach. Now I was on my knees beneath her,
my head resting on her trunks. I smelled the unmistakeble aroma of female
arousal mixed with sweat and blood as my face slid to her leg. Then with
nothing left to hold me up I toppled forward from my knees and lay face down,
spread eagled on the canvas, my mouthpiece dangling from the corner of my
mouth, my arms stretched out beyond my head. Blood spilled from my nose and
mouth. I was a thoroughly beaten fighter,

In that one round Peg had completely demolished me and reduced to me to a pile
of rubble at her feet.

Barely consious I lay motionless beneath her. Waves of vague nauseau washed
over my battered body as my wifes sweat washed down upon my back and
shoulders. Peg was in no hurry to see this ended . She straddled my body as if
I would some how arise and challenge her dominance. In the distance what
sounded like some sort of mantra was coming from Debbie

Only the formality of the count remained. Peg stepped over my prostrate body
and headed for her corner to await it. I could see the backs of her legs as
she walked victoriously to her stool. Her full feminine ass swayed
hypnotically from side to side as she strutted towards the corner. She pumped
her fists into the air as if acknowledging the cheers of an invisible crowd.

Over the buzzing in my ears I heard Peg tell Debbie to stop playing with
herself and begin counting.. I had now been down a good 20 seconds and I still
wasn't stirring. Just as Debbie was beginning the bell ending the round
clanged. I'd been "saved" by the bell

This simply added to my misery. I couldn't fight anymore - even the thought of
facing Peg's fists filled me with dread and I doubted if my legs would support
me anyway. But if I just layed there I would be giving up. Peg knew I wasn't
unconcious. The thought of laying there in a puddle of my own saliva and blood
as the next round began and then being counted out as Peg taunted me for
quitting was unbearable. I must get up I thought.

Using the ropes I managed to pull myself to my knees. From there I reached the
top rope and pulled my aching carcas up. My legs would not support me so I
simply hung over the top rope with my head and arms dangling outside the ring.
Debbie, who had been watching me struggle to my feet, asked me if I'd had
enough. From behind me I heard Peg tell Debbie that if I really wanted to quit
it was her I would have to speak to. I said nothing to either of them. I so
desperately wanted to surrender and have this fantasy turned nightmare over.
But I couldn't. The bell sounded for round eight.

Round Eight

Peg walked from her corner to the center of the ring. She knew I was finished.
She'd seen it in my eyes as I was collapsing before her in the previous round.
She knew she'd won. What she wanted was to hear it from me .She called for me
to get off the ropes and face her. I tried two halting steps away from the
ropes. I rocked from side to side as I struggled to maintain my balance on
rubbery legs. I got to within a few feet of Peg who then raised her arms to a
fighting stance. The sight of my conqueress preparing to continue the match
sapped me of my last strand of resolve. I collapsed into Peg's body. She held
her arms around my chest as I hung over her shoulders. She placed her lips to
my ear and whispered firmly. Quit, - say you give up. Admit I won fair and
square. If you don't the fight continues until you beg me to stop. Surrender
now and it's over,

Debbie, who could hear none of this, pleaded with Peg not to hit me anymore.
Debbie didn't understand, couldn't understand Pegs desire to either hear me
quit or see me counted out. She hadn't been through the meatgrinder Peg had
put herself through just to prove a point. I felt the muscles which were
bulging in Pegs arms just below the layer of flesh that covered them. Muscles
I never realized were even there. I felt the power flowing through her body as
she supported my weight, There was a woman of steel lurking just beneath the
domesticated exterior that had shared my bed for the last 25 years That woman
would not be denied the victory she had earned. Whats more I new it better
than anyone. I had no choice. I whispered the words she wanted to hear, I
begged her to accept my surrender and allow this to end.

I felt Pegs entire body convulse and shudder. She was to enjoy the victorious
climax I had been expecting. I'd had my dreams, Peg, it seems. had harbored
her own.. She released me and I collapsed once again to the canvas. I lay on
my back looking up at my wife and conqueror as Debbie slowly counted to ten.
At ten she formally declared Peg the victor and unduisputed champion of the
house, holding her gloved fist aloft. Peg stood above me with her arms raised
and a look of total satisfaction on her bloodied face.

My wife took a final victory lap around my limp form, strutting with her fists
raised in a double bicep pose and then climbed from the ring. Debbie removed
my gloves and mouthpiece then the two of them departed leaving me sprawled in
the ring.

Epilogue

I think I lost consciounceness for a few minutes because when I next looked up
two paramedics were standing over me. I was removed from the ring on a
stretcher and taken to the nearest Emergency room to have my wounds cleaned
and stitched, my ribs taped and my nose reset. I would spend two more days in
the hospital being treated for dehydration. Peg visited frequently

expressing her anguish at my condition though never mentioning the fight
itself.

While in the hospital I had time to reflect on what had occured. What would
this do to our relationship? To our marriage? I thought of how foolish I'd
been to decline Pegs offer of a Draw when the 2nd round ended. I think she
knew then that she would win. She had taken my measure and was convinced in in
her own mind she would beat me. Her offer was an attempt to save me from my
own pride. Now , as a reward for my arrogance, I have none.