Mature Women's Sports Club Mike & Marcia
By Smac
Marcie shows Mike how the .  17/12/2002

Mike sat in the 4 x 4, the little pile of boxing gloves on his lap.  
Marcia was much longer than she'd said but he knew she was ok, so he just sat 
back and let him mind wander.  She'd never mentioned mixed boxing to him, nor 
had she ever suggested they even spar.  
"But then," he thought, she only uses me sexually every few weeks or so, it 
isn't as if we're anything more than passing acquaintances."  He knew she had a 
daughter, of course, but he'd no idea if she was married or even where she 
lived.  He only knew of her at the MWSC and late evenings on the beach and in 
the sand dunes, under the stars.  
He came to with a start.  
Marc climbed into the car.
"I decided to have a quick shower after we got June settled," she panted, "I 
wanted to get all that snotty mess off me."
Mike nodded, "how is June?"
"Oh, not too bad really.  A bit like me last time, her nose is broken and she's 
got some pretty nasty bruising, but she'll be fine in no time."
"Hello, what's this?" she pointed to the boxing gloves.
"I'll explain when we get to where we're going," he stammered.
Marcia's brow knitted but she grabbed the keys and threw her bag into the back.  
Mike turned to look at her, she was in one of the club robes, gone were the 
beautiful leather trousers, her legs were bare and she had flip flops on her 
feet.  
She sensed the attention he was paying her.
"After all the exertion and the hot shower I just couldn't get back into those 
trousers, I'm still too hot right now."
She eased the front of her gown apart and Mike caught the glint of gold in the 
harsh street lights.  She gunned the engine.  
"Your place or mine?"
He conjured up a mental image of the squalor of his tiny apartment and quietly 
said, "How about your place?"
"Ok."
In just over ten minutes they pulled up under a dumpy tower block, not a lot 
different from Mike's and she parked up in what seemed to be her regular slot.  
She got out, grabbed her bags and turned to Mike.
"Let's go, I'm beginning to cool off now."
It was well after ten and the semi desert was beginning to cool, fast. 
She tightened her belt, hefted her bags and headed for a large stainless steel 
double door.  It was a lift.  They went up what seemed like a couple of floors 
and it shuddered to a halt.  
"This is my floor."
Her apartment was little bigger than his, but it was clean, uncluttered, almost 
minimalist.  Most of the furniture and fittings were of stainless steel and very 
functional.  
Marcia noticed him appraising her living space.
"I hardly spend any time here these days," she confessed, "it's not very 
welcoming I'm afraid."
"You should see my place," thought Mike.
"Looks fine," he grinned.
She dumped her bags, he dumped his armful of boxing gloves on a low table.
She became aware of them again.
"Ok, what's with the boxing gloves Mike?"
"Well," he stammered, "I was wondering, when I saw you standing over June like 
you did, you know, when she was on her knees?"
Marcia nodded slowly, "you're saying you want some of that?"
Mike looked her in the eye.
"If you're sure?" she said, motioning him to bring the two pairs of boxing gloves, 
"we'd better go in here."
She opened a door into a fairly large, bare room.  The floor was almost 
completely covered with white, plastic exercise mats.  Marcia went to a built in 
cupboard and collected some large, white towels.  
"You'll need to get undressed for this Mike," she smiled.
It broke the ice and he pulled his tee shirt over his head and threw it in the 
corner of the room.  
"Let me see you," he croaked.
She turned to him and kicked off the flip flops.
"Here," she indicated the bow on the front of her gown.
He was trembling so much he had real difficulty with it.
She shrugged the heavy gown from her wide, brown shoulders.
Mike was hard instantly.
She looked so full of herself after just having thrashed June, who, as far as he 
knew was still in hospital.  
She did a twirl for him.  She'd piled her hair up, her nipple rings, as he'd 
noticed earlier, were back in and she had her a tiny black leather g string on.
"Sue let me borrow the string from her after she'd changed, it was sopping wet 
when she gave it to me," she grinned.
His dick twitched.
"Here feel it if you like."
He dropped his jogging bottoms, to give his aching cock a little more freedom 
and reached out with his right hand.  He cupped Marcia's leather clad vulva in 
his palm.  
The black leather was warm and wet, she pulled the vee to one side and he could 
see strings of goo between it and her glistening cunt.
She dipped her forefinger in the slime and raised it to Mike's mouth, smearing 
the goo over his quivering lips. 
"What have you got in mind to do with those?" she pointed to the boxing gloves.
"I just want to feel what it's like," he stammered. 
"Alright," she purred, "lose those pants and get me into a pair of gloves."
He got his pants off.
For the second time that evening she was being gloved up for a boxing match.
"This is going to be a bit different," she thought as Mike clumsily tied the 
laces.
"That will be just fine," she soothed, "you take the laces out of the other pair 
and have them on loosely ok?"
Soon he had the gloves on, because they were so small on him they weren't too 
loose.
"Come on, have you ever boxed before?"
"No, never," he stammered.
He looked awkward standing there, naked with the little black six ounce gloves 
over his stomach. 
Marcia looked much more the part, her gloves up under her strong chin, her huge 
breasts thrust out with the heavy gold rings swinging from her long nipples, her 
bare feet planted firmly on the white plastic.  She looked like she could take 
him out with one punch.  She flicked out her left.  The glove hit him in the 
chest and he was rocked backwards by the force of the blow.
"The pain isn't too bad thought," he thought, shocked by the strength of her 
simple left lead.  Her never saw the straight right.  He just saw a blinding 
light and put his gloves up to cover his face.
"There now I've made your nose bleed," she soothed.
He lowered his gloves and took in the drops of blood on his bare chest.
"Had enough?" she asked.
By way of an answer, Mike tucked his gloves up to his chin.
"You try and hit me now," she urged.
He come forward clumsily.  He whacked her in her left breast, he thought it 
was a really good punch.
She glanced down at her reddening tit, and at the imprint the large ring had 
made on her flesh.  She threw a left, right combination to his face and he 
dropped to his knees.
"This was what he wanted?" she wondered.
She moved forward to stand over him, clenched gloves on her hips, feet apart. 
He looked up at her, the dangling rings, her meaty, brown thighs and that thin 
damp patch of soft leather covering her wet cunt.  He looked up at her, there 
was blood all over his chest now, he dropped forwards onto all fours, blood 
dripped onto the white plastic from his poor nose.  He lowered his head and 
kissed her warm, bare feet.  
"That's it," she whispered.
He raised himself back onto his knees.
He cupped his balls and stiff, aching cock in his little boxing gloves.
She caught the significance.
"Stand up then and part your legs."
He rose slowly and stood with his feet wide apart, with the palm of his left 
glove he laid his erect cock flat on his stomach, he raised his right glove 
up to cover his eyes so that he couldn't see the blow coming.
Marcia stepped forwards, drew her right fist back past her tensed thigh and 
sharply uppercut him smack in the nuts.  
When he came to he almost blacked out again immediately. He was still on his 
back on the spattered plastic.
Marcia now minus her little g string was straddling him, riding his cock, her 
flushed face contorted with lust. 
His erection was still immense, but he could sense by the amount of juice and 
goo around his groin, that he'd been out for some time and that Marcia had 
come many times already.  Instinctively he reached up and grabbed her nipple 
rings, he pulled quite firmly and she shuddered to yet another orgasm.  
He was now close to coming, despite the sickening pain from his balls.
She sat down heavily on him and he filled her as he drifted off again.  She 
eased herself off him and stood astride his head, letting his spunk and the 
strings of goo and juice from her last few orgasms drip down to mingle with 
the blood and snot on his upturned face.
"That's what it's like Mike," she whispered.