Ball boxing

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 I'm always dreamed to box naked?" I mumbled.

"Oh, that's not a problem, but I prefer to wear my workout outfit" 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 placelooked  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 my shirt, pants and boxers 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. She unbuttoned her skirt then tossed it down too. Under was a vast, white tank leotard. The blush had lightened to a glow. Our eyes met again and I tried to convey that fact that I was already bare.  She turned to face me again. The blush was gone completely now. She stood before me proud of what was causing a strong erection. The corners of her mouth turned up again. 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 returned to the study. Marilyn stood, typically female with her arms folded under her shelf  like bosom.
  
"Give me a twirl," I sighed.
 

She turned slowly. Even from the back she looked magnificent. From the front she looked stunning. 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 at her leotard clad body.

 

"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 leotard clad body 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 superiority and the raw look of intensive sexual pleasure in them. The corners of her mouth lifted in a proud way.