Mature Woman's Sports Club
by smac
Two mature women box at an all women club. 15/09/2000

Corrected 29/06/2001


"Hi, it's Mike isn't it, I don't suppose you remember me?"
He opened one eye, squinting against the fierce sunlight.
Standing over him was a large woman.
Not fat, large.
Big, large.
He tried, in vain, to focus on her face, but his gaze was ever drawn 
to her spectacular body.
She was barefoot, her toenails gaily painted, planted firmly in the sand.  
Her tanned, large thighs knotted as she leant slightly over him, her huge, 
brown breasts straining the thin fabric of her tiny two piece.  To call 
it a bikini would not do it justice.  It was really a tiny white g string 
and two little triangles of material held, almost over her massive tits, 
by a few pieces of string.
"I'm Marcie, Carrie's mom."
"Oh, yeah, I know," he stammered.
She smiled, her neat, white teeth contrasting with the dark tan of her 
strong face, beneath the pile of salt and pepper hair.
He absentmindedly patted the warm sand beside him.  
Dropping her shoulder bag first she elegantly sat down beside him, 
hugging her knees.
With her in this position she looked naked, none of her swimsuit could 
be seen.
He noticed now her shoulders and biceps.
She was big.
He helped her daughter Carrie with her fitness and weight training.  
She'd mentioned her mom to him several times.  Now here she was, in 
the flesh so to speak.
Carrie hadn't exaggerated, her mom was well put together.  Sixty one 
years old she'd said she was too, if he remembered correctly.
He'd seen her once when she'd dropped Carrie off at the gym.  Then 
she'd been sitting in the big 4 x 4 and, of course, she'd had clothes on.
"Carrie said you were pumped," he stammered, colouring up.
She patted his thigh, "I work hard at it," she smiled.
"I bet you do."
"I'm on my way to my club right now, if you're at a loose end, why not 
tag along?"
Mike had been worried for the last hour or so that he'd been wasting 
his time lazing on the beach all afternoon.  It was coming up to five 
and he'd done little with his Saturday leisure time.
"Yeah, how far is it?"
"I can give you a lift, it's only about fifteen minutes away."
She got to her feet, catlike despite her size.  She upturned her bag 
and pulled a big, white terry towel robe round her impressive shoulders. 
Mike picked his towel up from the sand and draped it round his neck, 
his strong fingers clamped the ends.
She started off up the beach with Mike a few steps behind marvelling 
at the swing of her big hips as she trod the soft sand and the play 
of her calf muscles as she walked.
At last they reached the grassy strip where several vehicles were 
randomly parked.
He remembered the big maroon 4 x 4.
She slung her bag in the rear, then climbed into the driver's seat.  
She leant over and unlocked the passenger side.
Mike climbed in too.
The terry robe had fallen open and he overtly stared at Marcia's body.
Seeing her clearly now the blazing sun wasn't in his eyes, she was even 
more striking.  There were a few creases across her belly now, 
unsurprisingly, but those tits, and those thighs........................
He briefly imaged his face jammed in her cleavage and those barrel 
thighs wrapped round his face...
"This club," he stammered," what is it like exactly?"
"Oh, it's for mature women.  No woman under the age of forty gets in.  
We do weights and circuits and general keep fit but the bit I like 
best is the sports side of it."
"Sports?"
"Yeah, we do wrestling and some boxing too."
"Boxing?" Mike croaked, "are you serious?"
"Look in the glove compartment."
He flicked the catch and just managed to catch a pair of red 
boxing gloves as the lid flipped down.
He swallowed hard.
"You are serious," he blurted.
"They're just sparring gloves, ten ouncers, too big for a real fight."
"Do you box for real often?"
"I try to go in at least twice a year, I'm about due at the moment as a 
matter of fact," she mused.
"You fight other women?" he asked.
"Oh yes, we don't go in the mixed matches, there's a club a bit 
farther up the coast that caters for that," she smiled.
He looked at her again across the cab and tried to imagine her in 
a boxing ring.
"Don't you get hurt?" he asked.
"Well yes," she replied, "that's boxing."
She delved into her bag and, from her wallet, produced a colour print.  
It was a close up of her once handsome face. 
"That was taken after my last fight, we both got broke up pretty good.  
She broke my nose and I had to have stitches in my eyes and mouth."
"And her....?"
"She was pretty much the same," she said nonchalantly as she carefully 
replaced the photo'.
"And you're thinking of doing it again?"
"Yep, that's one of the reasons I train, to test myself out against 
another woman."
"Who won the last fight?"
"I did, knocked her cold in the thirteenth."
"Unlucky for some," he thought.
There was silence for a while.
"You'll probably be the only man on the set when we get there.  
I'll do my best to get you in, but you'll have to be careful not 
the upset any of the other ladies.  Most of them workout bare 
chested, some even nude, most of them don't mind a little male 
attention, but some of them, you know.........................
Mike knew.
They reached low, sprawling complex on the fringe of the scrub land.
It wasn't much to look at, broken guttering, peeling paint but there 
were plenty of vehicles parked outside and most of them, like Marcia's, 
weren't cheapos.
"Hang on here," she whispered, gathering her robe about her, 
"I'll smooth the way."
She came back some minutes later, grabbing her bag.
"You're in ok, but remember what I said or you'll be back out 
again.  I'll leave you in the foyer whilst I see if I can find 
someone to box with, I may be lucky you never know who's in this place."
She left him stranded in the front entrance, he could only stand 
awkwardly and wait.
"I'm out of luck," she groaned, "the ring's booked for six o'clock."
He looked up at the clock over the door.
Five forty pm.
"Still we could watch the fight, it may be a good one.  Here, put 
your towel in my bag."
He dropped it in and she put the bag on the carpet and undoing 
the knotted belt, put her robe in on top.  She turned her back to him.
"Untie me will you?"
His hands shook as he reached for the knots in the thin white strings 
crossing her wide, warm back.  He pulled the bow undone   and she 
turned to face him before peeling the little triangles of cloth from 
her enormous tits.
Mike gasped.
Not only were her tits huge and firm but through each big, brown nipple 
was a thick, gold sleeper.
She dropped the minute bra into her bag.
"That's better," she sighed.
They went through a nearby doorway and Mike immediately understood why 
she'd removed her top.  All twenty or so women in the gym were either 
topless or, as Marcia had predicted, completely bare assed.
As the picked their way through the sweating, grunting women Marcia 
turned to make sure Mike wasn't ogling too freely.  She drew him closer 
to her and said quietly, "you'll be able to look all you want, this lot 
will all be in the little arena soon to watch the fight."
Mike nodded keenly.
They turned into a narrow corridor with Marcia in the lead.
Mike watched her bare, tight buttocks as they swayed in front of him.  
He was aware, not for the first time since entering the club, of a 
growing lump in his underpants.
Marcia stopped outside a double door leading off the corridor.
"Here we are," she said quietly.
Mike's eyes were riveted on the big, brown breasts with their pierced teats.
Marcia smiled.
Grabbing his sweaty hand she brought it up to her right breast.
Mike responded by weighing the mass of tit flesh and by tweaking the 
sleeper that was through her fat, rubbery teat.
Marcia sighed.
"If this IS a good fight, I might need a bit of a seeing to afterwards ok?" 
she blushed deeply.
Mike gave the gold ornament through her nipple a final jiggle before some 
other women came bounding down the corridor.
Marcia eased the door open with her hips and Mike followed her into the 
dimly lit, sweat tangy room.  Once his eyes had become accustomed to the 
gloom of the windowless room, he could see that they weren't alone, 
already about ten, mostly naked women were sat on hard backed canteen 
style plastic chairs.  The place began to fill rapidly then and, as the 
last few chairs were taken, the gantry of lights above the central boxing
ring were switched on, temporarily blinding the whole audience.
Mike could see what Marcia meant about him being able to feast his eyes.  
There was bare flesh all round him and all the women's eyes were glued to 
the little boxing ring in the centre of the room.  Almost as soon as the 
lights went up, four figures entered through a side door.
Two big women only in g-strings and carrying towels and so on and two in 
big towelling robes which looked identical to the one Marcia had worn 
earlier.  Their hoods were up though so Mike could only see their bare 
feet and lower legs.  Both pairs of legs were big he noticed.
They separated into pairs and the near naked seconds led their hooded 
fighters up and into the boxing ring.
The room was too small to warrant a PA and one of the naked ringsiders 
stood up to announce that the fight was between two 58 year olds, Stella, 
a red head and June, a black haired woman.
As soon as she sat down the two seconds dropped the hoods from their 
fighter's heads to reveal which was which.  They both took the little 
pair of, what looked like six ounce, white boxing gloves from their 
bundles and began quickly to lace them on to the women's trembling hands.  
This done the two big seconds dived out of the ring to stand on the corner 
apron.
The ringsider stood again.
"Stella."
The red head stood and her second reached into the ring to relieve her 
of her gown.
A loud cheer went up.
Stella was big.  Her face was round but pretty, her enormous breasts 
hung down to her deep belly button, she'd meaty hips and huge barrel 
thighs.  Oh, and she was completely naked, even her pubic hair had been 
carefully removed.
She was trembling all over and perspiration already beaded her upper lip 
and her breasts glistened.
"June."
The other robe was grabbed from outside the ring.
Another cheer.
June was another big lady.  Similar facially but she wasn't quite as 
tubby as Stella and her massive tits didn't hang down quite as far, 
they stood out from her chest a little more and her but her areola 
and teats were almost jet black.  She too was shaven between her white, 
tree trunk thighs.
They both stood knocking the very small, hard boxing gloves together 
over their bulging bellies.
"Looks promising," whispered Marcia.
"I've seen June box before, she doesn't take prisoners."
While the two boxers stood nervously in their corners, Mike took the 
opportunity to look around with the advantage of the bright lighting.  
About half the women were bare and half topless.  Even the topless ones 
mostly only wore g-strings.  Some of the breasts on view matched the size 
of those in the ring, but none of the ones outside the squared circle were 
quite so saggy.  Some of the younger looking members, perhaps in their early 
forties still had very good figures and firm bosoms.  They all looked fit 
though and some quite attractive though a few did actually seem to have 
sadly rearranged faces.  A couple of overt lesbians holding hands in the 
row in front of him had broken noses and massive scar tissue round their 
eyes.
A bell dinged somewhere and the two women boxers lumbered towards the ring 
centre and one another.
"No ref.?" asked Mike.
"Nah," smiled Marcia, "this is women's boxing."
They stopped at arms length and grudgingly touched gloves.  June pulled 
her right fist back and smacked Stella right between the eyes.
She staggered.
"Christ," whispered Mike.
Stella whipped her little white gloves up to her face and June ploughed a 
straight right into her chest.
It had to hit tit.
The whole of Stella's front was tit.
The glove almost disappeared into the mass of tit flesh. 
Stella's face went white.
She was caught cold.
She lowered her gloved hands now and June whacked her in the face again.
Stella hadn't moved yet, she just stood in the centre of the ring. 
June hit her hard in the face again and Mike noticed her breasts and bum 
quivering with the force of the blow.
"Can't see this lasting long," sighed Marcia.
"Will they stop it?" asked Mike.
"Who," said Marcia coldly.
Mike shuddered as he watched a couple more hammer blows go in.
Stella's right breast again and her right eye.
Still she hadn't moved from the spot, let alone reply with any punches of her own.
Mike mentioned it to Marcia.
"Perhaps she's her for the pain and humiliation, it's not unheard of," 
she smiled, nodding in the direction of the two women holding hands in 
the row in front of them.
Mike noticed the two lesbians had huge, weighted rings through their nipples, 
dragging their entire breasts down, stretching their teats alarmingly.  
Their knuckles showed white while they held hands and watched the brutal 
spectacle being played out in the boxing ring before them.
Suddenly the thud and smack of damp leather on female flesh was interrupted 
by the ding of a bell.
Mike's attention was brought back to the boxers as the two seconds come to 
life, awkwardly manoeuvring  stools into the ring for their fighter to sit 
out the break.
Mike glanced at his watch, "three minute rounds," he thought.
June stood impassively in her corner, talking offhandedly to her second, 
who affectionately sponged her big, untouched, though sweaty breasts.
The other corner wasn't quite so serene.
Stella sat on her stool grey faced, gasping for breath.  Her massive bosom 
heaving.  Both eyes and her nose looked swollen hard.  Her breasts too were 
wet with sweat but they were also glowing crimson with an already blue/black 
underlying bruising showing through.
Indeed Mike thought her tits were beginning to look like one big bruise.
In what seemed like no time the bell dinged again.
Mike looked at his watch, thirty second breaks.
The two seconds eased themselves and the chairs out of the ring giving 
Mike a good opportunity to ogle their bare breasts and asses.
Stella shuffled out to her position near the centre of the ring and June 
padded over, gloves low over her hips. Without hesitation she uppercut 
Stella in the belly.
Stella doubled over and June pulled her right glove back and uppercut her 
again, this time in the middle of her face.  
The crack was heard all round the room.
Blood squirted from both Stella's nostrils to splash over her hanging tits.
Mike noticed Marcia squirm in he seat.
She grabbed his hand again and put it on her bare, brown thigh.
He squeezed.
In the ring time seemed to stand still.
Stella just hung there, blood still running from her nose, down over her 
tits and now her belly too.
A right cross from June to the side of her head sent her sprawling into 
the ropes near her own corner.
The round was only just begun.
Her second dunked the sponge and slapped it onto the bridge of Stella's 
nose but, in response to be boos and catcalls from the audience, she 
threw it back into the bucket again and stood back, waiting to see what 
her downed boxer would do.
There was no count.
There was no ref.
Stella was sitting now, her broad back against the taut ring ropes, her 
as yet unused boxing gloves palm down on the canvas, her eyes glazed, blood 
still streaming down her front.  She bent her knees, drawing her bare feet 
up the soiled canvas of the ring floor.  Resignedly she used the ropes to 
get to her feet to stand in a virtual puddle of her own blood. 
She looked a terrible sight.
June came forward and everyone in the room seemed to strain closer, ready 
for the carnage to follow.
True to form June right crossed Stella in the tits managing somehow to hit 
both distended bags of breast flesh with the same cruel blow.
Stella mewed with pain and bent over, trying to ease the torment in her tits.
Marcia felt Mike's grip on her thigh tighten.
June stood off and scythed a mighty right cross into the hook of Stella's jaw.
She hung there a moment then crumpled to her knees in front of the vitrix, June.
Needing to support herself, she clasped her boxing gloved hands round the 
back of June's knees and laid her pulped face on the soft white thigh of her tormentor.
"Do it," the cry went up.
Stella looked up briefly into June's eyes.
June pulled her blood wet right glove back and pistoned it into Stella's nose and mouth.  
Blood ran down June's legs but still Stella clung on.
June whacked her again tearing her right eyebrow terribly and, with a sigh, 
Stella slid down her thighs leaving a trail of blood and snot as she did so, 
until her ruined face came to rest on June's bare, blood spattered feet.
The crowd fell silent.
The two lesbians in front of them kissed passionately and Marcia said.
"I'm just going to see if I can have a quick word with June, then I think  
I need that seeing to I mentioned earlier."
Half a minute later Mike was yanked from his chair and Marcia dragged him 
towards the door.
"What did you say to June?" he panted.
"Asked her if she'd box with me in a fortnight's time, same rules and 
everything."
"What did she say?"
"She agreed."
 



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