Ball boxing.
By Smac.
Marilyn's boxing debut - Mike gets smacked in the nuts for his trouble.

Corrected 10/6/2001
	
  She came over to thank me for finding her gloves in the driveway.
  "Look," I pleaded, "I'm on the Internet at the moment, why don't you 
take a look, there's bound to be something to interest you."
  
  I sat at the keyboard, typing furiously at some URL I remembered for 
one of the supermarket chains which offered virtual shopping.
  I looked round to see Marilyn looking along my book lined wall.
  She stopped in her tracks, she was obviously looking at the couple of 
books I had that were about boxing.
  Marilyn eyed the books quizzically.
  "I wouldn't have thought you would have been interested?" she said 
wistfully.
  I said, "Oh, yes, ever since I was at school."
  "Have you ever.... you know?" she stammered.
  "Yes, a couple of times," I smiled.
    "Do you know," she blushed deeper than usual, "I've always rather 
fancied............."
  I struck while the iron was still metaphorically - hot.
  "I've a couple of pairs of boxing gloves in the filing cabinet and we
could make some space in here," I spread my arms out to indicate the
already fairly sparse confines of my study, "if you're serious."
  She nodded, her eyes on the carpet.
  "Oh, you wouldn't believe how serious I am Mike," she whispered, her 
eyes still downcast.
  Unexpectedly, she struck a boxing pose, standing feet apart, her 
little fists clenched tightly and level with her quivering chin.
  "Hey, that's good," I said, "are you sure you've never had the gloves 
on before?"


  She was dressed as always.  Baggy sweat shirt and blue, dark blue, 
voluminous pleated skirt, bare white legs and flat, sensible shoes.
  She'd be about thirty eight or forty now.  Her pale face make up free 
and her coal black hair close cropped but still untidy.


  "Ok," I said, half thinking that it may all turn out to be a waste of 
time and effort.
  I decided to set a sprat.
  "Um, you know that people usually box bare chested?" I mumbled.
  "Oh, that's not a problem," she blushed, grabbing for the bottom of 
her sweatshirt.
  "That's ok," I grinned, "let's get this room ready first," in 
practice, I didn't think I could face seeing her topless for 
too long, without coming my load that is.
  "May as well set the scene further," I thought.
  "I may want you to provoke me a little to get me going so to speak," I 
explained awkwardly.
  "I'm sure that will be alright too," she replied, her eyes darting 
round the room, looking at the removable furniture.
  Obviously she was up for it.
 
   I marvelled at how fit and strong she was, lugging all that heavy 
furniture around.  
  Soon my little old room was a shadow of its former self, with just the 
two large bookcases and my deadweight filing cabinet left.  The place
looked  unfamiliarly huge.
  
  "We'd better put some dust sheets on the floor," I explained with a 
wry smile, "you never know."
  I noticed the corners of her mouth quiver briefly.
  
  I began on the buttons of my open necked shirt, "at least all this 
furniture removing has warmed us up."
  I tossed the shirt into a corner and turned back to meet her burning 
black eyes.
  Her shaky fingers strayed to the bottom of the baggy sweatshirt.
  I willed her on.
  She blushed deeply and then, in a smooth, single movement whipped the 
shirt over her short hair and tossed it down on top of my shirt.
  Under was a vast, white bra.
  The blush had lightened to a glow.
  Our eyes met again and I tried to convey that fact that I was already 
bare to the waist.
  At last her hands went round her back and I was sure she was going to 
do it.
  "Can I do that?" I pleaded, hoping against hope.
  She twisted her broad, white shoulders first, then her hips and feet 
until she was mostly facing away from me.
  It was the turn of my fingers to tremble violently as I reached for 
the large, straining fastener on the back of her voluminous brassiere.
  "I've never been much good at this sort of thing," I told myself, with 
a relieved half smile.
  At last the hooks and eyes parted and she eased the wide, white bra 
straps over her downy arms, finally tossing it carefully onto the
growing pile of our clothes in the corner.
  She turned to face me again.
  The blush was gone completely now. 
  She stood before me proud of what was causing a large tent to form in 
the front of my track suit bottoms.
  Her breasts were huge.
  Huge, but still very firm. 
 Two solid mounds of woman flesh topped by dark, almost black teats 
which stuck out about another three quarters of a mouth watering inch.
  "They look so heavy," I stammered.
  The corners of her mouth turned up again.
  I raised my sweating, shaking hands from my sides, "can I ........."
  She pushed them out towards me just enough for me to get the message.
  I slid my right hand gently under her massive left breast and lifted 
slowly,  testing the weight of the brimming handful of tit. 
  Keeping my right hand under her warm breast I hefted her right tit in 
the same manner, marvelling at the weight and solidness of her bosom.  
This was no flab, no floppiness, no pap.  
These were the breasts, massive breasts, of a woman half her age.
  "They're so heavy," was all I could say.
  Reluctantly I drew my hands away and her big breasts settled back to 
their original position, the big, black nipples only inches above her deep
belly button.
  I went to the filing cabinet.  Fortunately the local car boot had come 
up trumps a few weeks earlier and I'd bought the two pairs of really
quite new looking six ounce gloves one red pair, one black.
They hadn't cost much, they didn't eat anything and they took up very little room.  
  I checked they were in the right drawer and excused myself briefly.
  
  I'd spotted a fairly short, black leather skirt amongst my wife's 
things a few weeks before when she'd asked me to write out a cheque for her.
  Serve her right for keeping her cheque book in her knickers drawer and 
for never learning to write her own cheques.  
  I returned to the study with the skirt behind my back.
  Marilyn stood, typically female with her arms folded under her shelf 
like bosom.
  
  I began to detect a faint air of  nervousness, or was it impatience?
  "Would you like to see how the gloves feel against your chest?" I 
suggested.
  She did nod enthusiastically.
  I took out the black pair and, unravelling the laces, gave one to her.
  She turned it over in her strong hands a few times then, to my 
satisfaction, moved it up and began stroking her massive right tit.  
  To my utter amazement, the already huge teat began to enlarge further.
  Then, would you believe it, she rolled the cuff up in her fist and 
began to slap the leather boxing glove against her reddening breast.  
  I was in imminent danger of coming in my pants.
  I could hardly watch as she, smiling, pulled the unlaced glove onto 
her right fist and lifted her massive left breast with the knuckle part
of the boxing glove, much as I had earlier done with my hand.
  In a flash she dropped her tit and gave herself a solid punch, bang on 
the massively erect nipple.  It was a hard punch, the black leather
thudded into her tit meat, her rubbery nipple disappeared right back
into her breast, to reappear quickly but bigger than before........
  She hefted her tit again with her right boxing glove, looking down at 
the reddening imprint of the glove she smiled calmly.
 
  I had to turn away.
  "Ok?" I croaked.
  By way of an answer she slid the boxing glove off and held both hands 
out, ready for me to lace them both on.
  
  By some miracle of self control I didn't come and I remembered the 
skirt.
  Turning to the drawer I said, "perhaps you'd like to try this on, it 
would be easier to wipe off afterwards."
  I handed her the heavy, folded black leather skirt.
  She looked knowingly as she took it from me, I noticed HER hands 
trembling as we touched.  
  Unselfconsciously she went for the fastening of her long, fully 
pleated number.
  It fell heavily to the floor.
  Another ordeal for my aching member.
  Underneath all she wore were a pair of the smallest white silk panties 
I'd ever seen.
  They were just two very small triangles of, almost see through, silk 
with laces round her broad hips, tied in neat bows on the crowns of her hips.
  She must surely shave between her legs, they barely covered her at the 
front.  They looked so incongruous, both with the skirt she'd just
thrown into the corner, and with the frumpy, flat black moccasins on her feet.
  She looked at me questioningly.
  "They may come in handy for mopping up later," I mumbled. 
  She cocked a hip up towards me and I undid that bow, she undid the 
other side.

  She was depilated between her sturdy legs.
  Her mound was as smooth as a baby's bottom.  
  Her inner cunt lips shone pink and moist.
  She bent to pick up the leather skirt from the floor.
  I kept my eyes on her flat belly, it barely creased as she retrieved 
the leather.
  She stepped into it and began to shimmy it up over her meaty thighs.  
It was a size sixteen and as she buttoned and zipped it so easily
I thought her hips to be 40" or maybe even less.
  "Give me a twirl," I sighed.
  She turned slowly,  her palms  brushing the thick, black leather down 
over the  front of her sturdy, white thighs.
  Even from the back she looked magnificent.
  From the front she looked stunning.
  Her breasts seemed heavier than ever and, as for her nipples, they 
were so long and hard.....
  She followed my gaze and teasingly brushed her teats with the back of 
her trembling hands.
  I couldn't believe they would get any bigger......
  
  "I think it's time I got you gloved up," I panted, adjusting the front 
of my track suit bottoms.
  I repaired to the bathroom next door, ostensibly to fetch some 
sticking plaster but I took the opportunity to splash some cold water
on my face and give my huge erection a breather.
  When I returned she had taken the black six ounce boxing gloves and 
was examining them minutely.
  "Are those the one's you prefer?" I said hopefully.
  "Yes, I like the black, goes with the skirt," she smiled.
  I smiled too, the red gloves had Velcro round the cuffs and that meant 
I could glove her up before getting my fists into the red pair.
  Her eyes widened when she noticed the plaster.
  "It's alright, it's just to save our knuckles," I assured her.
  I hacked off four large pieces with some scissors and carefully put 
everything back on top of the cabinet.
  She handed me the boxing gloves she was to wear.
  "Hold out your hands," I asked, and slapped the hunks of plaster over 
the backs of  her delicate little hands, "ok?"
  "Fine," she croaked.
  "Now for the gloves, anything you need to do while your hands are 
still free?"
  She thought for a second, "no, just do it please."
  I really did nearly come on the spot as I eased her small, sweaty 
hands into the black leather boxing gloves.
  The flush came back to her face and even the tops of her mighty tits 
reddened. 
  Something was going on inside that mysterious body of hers.
  I deliberately spun out the lacing up, I was enjoying it and was quite 
sure she was too.
  There comes a time.......
  The laces were fearfully tight, the knots neat, loose ends tucked in, 
she was ready to go.
  "Just the shoes and you'll be ready," I enthused.
  "She seemed to wake up."
  She looked down and dreamily eased the moccasins off with alternate 
feet.
  
  I'm sure my heart stopped.
  Her feet were the feet of a pre teen girl.
  The were small, white and without any blemish.  There was none of the 
redness caused be ill fitting shoes, no hard skin, just beautiful feet.
  
  "You don't mind do you?" I asked hoarsely as I grabbed at the waistband 
of my tented trainers.
  She shook her head.
  I dragged track suit, boxers and socks off all in one clumsy, frantic 
move.
  Her eyes went immediately to my penis.
  I'm sure I'd never been so aroused.
  Dropping to my knees I grabbed her right foot and ground it into my 
aching dick.  
  Rather than protest she closed her eyes and her mouth fell open.
  Reluctantly, after a few minutes, I stood up, went to the cabinet and 
got myself gloved up.
  She waited in the centre of the room, still in her trance like state.
  I thought I should take control and, at the same time, get her back 
down to earth.
  "Right, I need you to get me going, remember what I said?"
  She nodded and the thousand yard stare faded somewhat.
  I lay on my bare back, on the dust sheets, boxing gloves at my sides.
  "Come here," I said.
  I grabbed her right foot again with my boxing gloved hands and, 
spreading my thighs as far as they would go, got her in such a position
that she could have easy access to my groin with her little feet.
  I laid my aching member on my stomach with my left boxing glove.
  "Put your fists on your hips," I croaked, looking up her white, round 
thighs to the black leather mini skirt and her great, hanging breasts.
  "Kick me in the balls," I pleaded.
   I looked up into her burning eyes, "but, not too hard, to start 
with."

  Without a pause she pulled her little foot back and kicked me in the 
testicles..... quite hard.
  
  The pain was intense, but exquisite.
  Despite the overwhelming desire to clutch at my throbbing testicles, 
albeit hampered by the little leather boxing gloves, I managed to keep
my arms by my sides and overcome the abuse to my balls both by deep
breathing and watching Marilyn's huge breasts heaving as she too fought
some inner emotion.
  After a minute or so, when most of the acute pain was a memory, I 
panted, "again."
  Her instep thudded into my nuts, much harder this time.
  I couldn't resist cradling them this time.
  I moved my right boxing glove over, the thumb circling the base of my 
still rock like cock whilst the mitt part cupped my aching balls, trying,
in vain to ease the agony.
  I caught her dark, smouldering eyes again.
  There was a mixture of the concern of the nursing sister and the raw 
look of intensive sexual pleasure in them.  
The corners of her mouth lifted in a half apologetic way.
  It took me much longer to recover and it was a good five minutes 
before I could think about getting to my feet.
  

  "Do you want some," I indicated the thick leather covering her groin 
with my left glove.
  She nodded submissively.
  "Get your back against the wall then," I ordered.
  The hem of her leather skirt would need to come up, I thought it would 
be easier, and more symbolic, if she did it herself.
  "Get the skirt up round your waist."
  It took her quite a time to shimmy the tight leather up over her wide 
hips with a combination of wriggling and fumbling with the awkward boxing
gloves on.
  It was not an unpleasant few minutes for me, watching her thighs 
working, her massive breasts rolling round her chest and thinking
of what may be in prospect.
  Finally the leather was out of the way, her wet, glistening pussy lips 
were ready and vulnerable.
  Our eyes met again, hers pleading.
  "Back against the wall again," I said, slowly and deliberately, "now, 
move your feet apart and slide your back down a little."
  As she did so, her thighs parted beautifully her meaty cunt lips opened 
out and, miraculously her fleshy little clit popped into view, it looked 
just like the end of one's little finger.
  I moved over and ground the knuckle part of my right boxing glove into 
her crutch.
  "Please," she whispered.
  I balled my fist tightly and dug it, quite hard, up into her cunt.
  There was a satisfying splat and her huge breasts bobbed beautifully.
  Her lips formed an 'O' while she nodded frantically.
  I put my shoulder behind it and uppercut her twice more, very hard.
  Her chin sagged onto her heaving chest.
  I stood back and watched her glistening cunt clench and unclench, I 
had a very good idea of what she was experiencing.
  After a time she lifted her head, her eyes seemed more liquid, "once 
more?" she sobbed.
  Payback time, this one was going to be a good one.
  I took my time, got  myself  well pumped up.
  Moving forward, I smashed my right glove up between her legs, I'm sure 
her feet left the floor, as it was her huge tits wrapped round her chin
before settling back onto her flushed chest.
  Her eyes were glazed, she slid down the wall and curled up on the 
carpet, her back heaving, both her black boxing gloves over her streaming
cunt.
  
  I took my time going to the bathroom, where I'd deliberately half 
filled a glass with water, I picked it up awkwardly and, going back
into the study, set it carefully on the window sill.  
  I propped myself  against the end of the large bookcase and watched 
the colour returning to Marilyn's face.
  I began to fear that I'd shot my bolt.

  Several minutes later she laid the palms of her, as yet, unused boxing 
gloves on the carpet and sat up, back against the wall, thighs still wide
apart.
  There was a dark little stain on the dust sheet growing slowly.
  "I shouldn't ask me to kick you again for a while if  I were you," she 
threatened.
  I had to find out it she'd already had enough.
  "Is that it?" I asked, looking down at her, half fearing the reply.
  
  A half smile played across her lips.
  She raised her boxing gloves to cradle her breasts.
  "These next," she croaked.
  First she squatted, then she got painfully to her bare feet, smoothing 
the thick, black leather skirt back down over her moist thighs.
  She squared her shoulders back against the wall, her eyes said it all.
  She cupped her breasts in her boxing gloves again, surely she would 
let go of them before I punched them.  What with that and the solid wall
at her back, there would be no give, she was going to hurt.
  To be perfectly honest I even had reservations about hitting those 
beautiful breasts, but if that was what she wanted, and clearly it was...........
  
  I looked her in the eye and she gave an almost imperceptible nod.
  
  I shrugged my shoulders, then hunched them in a typical boxer's stance 
and let go a left jab to her bulging right breast.
  
  Marilyn emitted an involuntary squeak..... but she still held her 
breasts in her black boxing gloves......
  Our eyes met and I pressed on.
  I got my right jab going, hard into her left breast, it was reddening 
before my very eyes.  
  Marilyn's eyes were misting over, but she still held her breasts and 
the eye contact.
  About half a dozen hard blows to her left tit later, I was getting a 
little queasy about things and Marilyn, she was openly crying now.
  
  I dropped my red boxing gloves, she dropped her tits, the left one red 
and angry.
  "Had enough?" I asked, half hoping she would say 'yes'.
  But she was characteristically silent.
  
  I thought for a moment.
  "Look, you'd better do something if you want me to go on hitting you."
  She looked up from examining her reddened breasts which she had again 
cupped in her leather boxing gloves.
  "You'd better punch me," I sighed.
  "Where?" she asked.
  "Where do you think."
  
  I held my still aching member up to my stomach with my left boxing 
glove and parted my feet and thighs.
  She came forward and splatted my bollocks up against my pubic bone 
with a quite snappy right uppercut.
  That intense agony returned.
  She looked at my enquiringly.
  "Once more," I croaked, "then you're for it."
  She made the most of the invitation and whacked me so hard in the 
balls that I ended up in the foetal position on the carpet, at her
bare feet, with both my boxing gloves cupped over my aching balls,
trying to ease the fiery pain.
  I half expected her to comfort me, but instead she stood over me, 
stroking her own battered breasts with her boxing gloved hands.
  Finally I managed to drag myself to my feet.
  Marilyn immediately cupped her breasts in her gloves again as I came 
forward.
  I used the little momentum and threw a straight right, hard into the 
centre of her expectant face.
  The back of her head impacted on the wall, fortunately our house is 
dry lined.
  A thin trickle of blood began from both her nostrils, she dropped her 
swelling tits and they bobbed about on her heaving chest.  She grabbed
for the end of the radiator with her left glove, I thought she was going
to go down.
  To give her credit she seemed to snap out of it and pull herself 
upright again to stand defiant for whatever  else was to come her way.
  It was another straight right to her nose again.
  Not quite as hard because it was from a standing start, but her nose 
was already damaged and the blood began to run.
  She licked her lips, tasting some of the blood from her injured nose.
  Her eyes said it all again and I took a step back to get some of the 
weight back into my right hand.
  I'm sure I felt something give under the thin padding of my right 
glove.
  Blood squirted down over her chest to run along the crease across her 
tummy and on to fill her belly button.
  I dropped my gloves, remorse hanging over me
  She sagged visibly, bleeding over her tits.
  I noticed her left glove on the radiator again.
  After a short time her gaze strayed to my enormous erection, I don't 
know to this day how I managed to maintain myself in that state for so
long.  But I wasn't complaining.
  
  Her face blood had reached to waistband of my wife's leather skirt by 
now.
  Marilyn looked concerned.
  "It's ok," I assured her, "I said we may have to do some mopping up 
didn't I?"
  
  Remarkably the corners of her mouth lifted.
  
  "Enough?" I asked.
  
  In reply, she cupped her right tit with both boxing gloves.
  "You've only punched me once in this tit," she vamped. 
  While she still held it in her boxing gloved hands, I pistoned my 
right fist into the very centre of the breast, bang on the nipple.
The little red boxing glove almost disappeared into the mass of tit
flesh.  
  She dropped the tit as I pulled my fist out of it.
  I noticed her knees buckling and, stepping sharply to the left took 
the chance of a viscous right uppercut to the same side of her swollen
chest.
  The air went out of her with a whoosh and she fell onto all fours, 
blood dripping from her nose onto the dust sheets, her great reddened
breasts hanging almost to the floor.  Her back heaved in great sobs
her little white feet splayed out behind her, the little black six
ounce gloves palm down on the covered carpet.
  I was near bursting point.
  I got myself between her and the wall, resting my back against it and 
grabbed my rampant cock.
  It took just a few strokes of my right boxing glove and a great arc of 
spunk shot over her sweaty, white back.  
Some even landed in her hair, most over her back with a few blobs 
spattering the thick, black leather stretched over her ample buttocks.
  I slid down the wall to end up sitting on the carpet, drained.
  
  Marilyn's sobs turned to squeals as she managed to get her right 
boxing glove far enough up inside the black leather skirt, to start
mashing the soggy leather into her streaming cunt and pummelling
and abrading her long clit with the rough leather boxing glove.
  Finally she fell forwards onto the floor, her nose banging hard into 
the thinly covered boards.  
  After a few minutes on her side, she too eased her back against the 
wall next to me.
  "Ok?" I asked.
  "Yes thanks Mike," she sighed, blood was dripping steadily from her 
nose, onto her reddened breasts and on down over her creased belly
and over the waistband of the borrowed leather skirt.
  "Well you've certainly Christened that," I grinned, indicating the 
skirt and feeling some sensation returning to my cock.
  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven, sitting there next to Marilyn, 
still in her boxing gloves and, of course,  the little leather skirt,
watching her blood splashing gently onto her massive, heaving breasts.
  I reached out my right boxing glove, to brush it against her big nipples.  
  They still responded.
  Marilyn's eyes dropped to my middle, where my dick was on the move 
again.
  She shimmied herself round until she was kneeling in front of me and, 
putting her black boxing gloves on my heaving shoulders, pushed her
massive chest towards me.
  I stood slowly,  until my, now fully erect, penis lay on top of her 
blood spattered tits.
  I pushed it awkwardly into her cleavage with my blood wet gloves.
  She did what I'd only dreamt about, she bobbed her head down and took 
the helmet end of my cock into her mouth.
  The blood from her poor nose was dripping onto my cock now, wet and 
warm.

  I wrapped my blood smeared boxing gloves round the back of her bobbing 
head, blood spattered all over my dick and lap in general  before I
came a vast load into her receptive mouth.
  I pulled out of her mouth and she swallowed and licked her bloody, 
come smeared lips.
  She struggled to her bare feet and looked down over her bloody breasts 
and the soiled skirt.
  She looked into my eyes.
  I felt a pang of remorse returning.


  "You keep the skirt," I croaked, "my wife won't even miss it I 
shouldn't think.  Then, when I see you wearing it, I'll know what you
want, ok?"
  She nodded and crawled over to the pile of clothes.
  She held her little white silk panties under her still dripping nose 
as she sorted out her shirt, bra and skirt from the pile.  
She changed hands as she pulled the sweatshirt over her head to 
cover her bloody breasts, rolled her bra up inside the voluminous
skirt and started down the stairs, muttering her thanks over her
shoulder behind the panties held up to her runny nose.