Boxing

The gym was closed on the day she came waltzing into the place. The only reason the doors were unlocked was that I was in to do the books. I figured the woman must have been illiterate as our opening hours were clearly posted on the door and on the counter, but she ignored them and just barged up to the counter and started banging on the bell.

Eventually tiring of hearing her banging on the bell and yelling out I wandered out to see what she wanted. Well, no, I didn't. I have to admit I wandered out to chase her away.

"We're closed," I said, fronting up to the counter. "Go away and come back when we're open."

"Excuse me," she replied, "but you are open. The door is unlocked and the lights are on and you're here at the counter. That looks open to me."

"OK. We're open, technically, but we're not in operational mode. See the sign? It tells you when you can come in and do things here. There's another one on the door. You can see it on your way out."

"I'm not interested in them," she said. "I want you to teach me to box. I want to take it up professionally."

It's not nice to laugh at potential customers but that doesn't make it easy not to laugh. She was about twenty, would be struggling to make the weight for a straw-weight, presumably had had no training and she wanted to be a boxer. She looked as though a strong wind would knock her down. A punch would probably land her in hospital.

"Um, we're not exactly geared towards training female fighters," I told her. "I can give you a list of a couple of gyms that might be willing to take you on."

(Some customers you just don't want. You just know that they're going to be a real pain. She was one of those, I just knew it.)

"You're not allowed to turn me down on the basis of sex," she said. "That's discrimination and against the law."

I idly wondered what the discrimination act said about turning someone down on the grounds of congenital idiocy. They probably had that covered as well.

"Well, I can't help you right now anyway," I told her happily. "Like I said, we're not in operational mode and none of our instructors are available. Why don't you come back later?"

Much later, like next year.

"You're here and you used to be a boxer. Why can't you train me for my initial lesson? Though I suppose you're a bit old to get in the ring now," she finished up, regarding me dubiously.

A bit old? I gave her a nasty look and asked her how she knew that I used to be a boxer.

She promptly pointed to some pictures on the wall behind me. Typical advertising for a gym, but it showed me in the ring sparring.

"Yeah, well we don't have a female change room or other facilities just yet. It's on the list of upgrades but we haven't got around to doing them yet. Sorry."

Pushy broad. She had no intention of taking no for an answer.

"There's just us here so that won't matter," she said. "And I don't need to get changed. What I'm wearing will be fine for a boxing lesson."

I looked her over and she had a point. She was wearing loose shorts and a tank top, pretty much what she'd be wearing if she was in the ring. I figured what the hell. It would probably be faster to get rid of her by giving her a lesson and showing her how unsuited she was.

So I jerked my thumb towards the bags and told her to move on in. She went dancing over to them, all smiles, while I locked the gym door in case some other nut wanted to come in.

I followed and put a pair of light gloves on her and squeezed on a pair myself. Her's, I laced up. Mine, I didn't bother. I didn't think we'd be there very long.

I showed her how to stand and how to hold her arms and how to throw a punch. Then I invited her to hit the heavy bag. She missed it. Twice.

I again showed her how to stand and how to hold her arms and how to step close enough to your opponent to hit him. Then I invited her to hit the heavy bag. She missed it. Again. I hadn't thought it possible for anyone to be so inept.

She protested that it was my fault. I should put her in the ring and really show her how to box.

It's not done that way, I explained. Let's try the basics first. Once the basics are right, everything else will follow naturally.

She wasn't having a bar of it. I was being deliberately difficult because she was a woman, she claimed. It was rank discrimination and totally unfair. She'd file a suit against me.

Never argue with a woman. When they're right they know it and when they're wrong they know they're right.

I invited her into the ring. She scrambled into the ring and I climbed in behind her. I started to explain what we would be doing and she punched me on the nose.

"What the hell are you playing at?" I roared at her. That surprise punch had stung.

"Isn't that what we're here for?" she taunted me.

I was beginning to suspect a put-up job. If it was, I was going to kill someone.

"There are rules in the ring," I patiently explained. "We don't start until the bell rings and normally we would start towards each other from opposite corners. Because I'm instructing you, or trying to, we'll waive the opposite corners bit. Do you remember anything of the way I showed you to stand and hold your arms?"

Of course not. That would be too easy. I showed her again and she assumed a reasonable position.

"OK," I said. "I'm going to throw a couple of light punches at you. They won't hit for two reasons. One, I'll be aiming them to miss you. Two, you will block them with your arms and direct them even further away from your body. Now, are you ready?"

She nodded enthusiastically and I swung a gentle punch towards her chin. It was going to fall short, as I didn't really expect her to be able to block it, and I wanted her to realise just how close she came to getting a face full of fist.

You wouldn't believe that idiot. Instead of trying to block she tried to duck and also took a step forward to try to connect with me. It seemed to me that what she really wanted to do was just punch someone.

The result of her ducking and stepping forward threw my punch off slightly. It bounced off her chin, quite gently, I assure you, and she went to sleep.

I kid you now. She was out like a light, stretched flat on her back, absolutely spreadeagled on the mat. For crying out loud, I've swatted mosquitoes with a harder punch than that. I've heard of glass jaws but this was ridiculous.

I tossed my gloves and crouched over her, giving her a little shake to see if she was faking. Nope. Out cold.

I went to the office to get some sal volatile. Good old smelling salts. Just the thing for these sorts of situations.

I will freely admit that I was feeling pretty pissed off. The fool woman had ignored everything I said and just gone her own sweet way, and she'd now probably sue me for knocking her cold. So yes, I was pissed off.

Coming back to the ring I looked at her flat on her back. She'd insinuated that I was now an old man incapable of climbing into the ring. And she couldn't even take a single punch. The whole 'is this a set-up' thing came bubbling up in my mind again.

That's when my evil plan appeared full blown in my mind.

I didn't wave the smelling salts under her nose. If this was a set-up I figured there was a faster way to wake her up.

Kneeling down beside her I took hold of her shorts and yanked them down and off. Sleeping beauty hadn't budged. Her pretty little panties followed and she still slept on. It seemed that she really was out cold. It also seemed that she liked to shave her mons. A probing thumb told me that she had shaved recently. No prickles from regrowing stubble.

Decision, decisions. Did I put her panties and short back on, wake her the way she was now, or continue on course and take off her top? What do you think?

The tank top was easy, but that bra had a tricky little catch. I managed to figure it out and sleeping beauty was now stretched out naked on the mat.

It's always intrigued me the way a woman's breasts seem to vanish when they lie down. Real breasts, that is. Yet if you cup them and lift them it is still there, just waiting for you to take a bite. I'll admit I cupped them, but I refrained from biting. After all, the woman was out cold.

I did strip off myself and pay a little attention to her pussy. A little rubbing, a little squeezing and internal touching and it seemed to me that her body was reacting spontaneously. She became hot and wet quite readily.

Now I don't want you to think I was going to take unfair advantage of her while she was out cold. That's just not my style. But I didn't see any harm in making some preparations for what might happen after she woke up.

I eased her lips apart and let them close over the head of my erection. That's all. If she decided to pull back, no harm done. Then I uncapped the sal volatile and waved it under her nose.

She snorted and tossed her head to the side. I patted her on the cheek.

"Wakey, wakey," I crooned. "Time to wake up. What's your name, sweetheart?"

It was odd, but with all our arguing we hadn't actually gotten around to exchanging names.

She shook her head again, muttering. Her eyes snapped into focus and she said "Carol. My name is Carol."

"Nice to have you back with us, Carol," I said.

"Where am I?" she muttered, and then realisation dawned. "The gym. You hit me."

At about that time other sensations from her body apparently clarified, drawing her attention to them. She gave me a look of horror and then switched her gaze down to where my erection was just resting comfortably, her lips wrapped around its head.

She squealed a very loud, "You bastard!" and bucked savagely beneath me.

If she was trying to throw me off then her wrestling was on a par with her boxing skills. What she achieved was to hoist her hips hard up against me, skewering herself upon my cock as neat as you please.

She didn't stop there. She squealed and twisted and squirmed and bucked beneath me, sliding herself up and down my cock like a wild thing. It was all I could do to hang on as she worked me over. If it hadn't been for the fact that I was holding her breasts I might even have lost my position.

Carol must have been busy pumping my cock for a good five minutes before it seemed to dawn on her that that was all she was doing. By then it was far too late for her to do anything about it. Her actions had taken on a life of their own (with my enthusiastic help) and we were banging against each other in fine style.

I did notice when she stopped taking the lead in our friendly little wrestling match, but that was OK as I was quite happy to take over the leading role. I banged into her hard and often and she responded, humping herself up against me, meeting my every drive.

She was still looking daggers at me but she couldn't deny that her body had entered fully into the spirit of things, her bottom lifting clear off the mat in her eagerness to bounce against me.

My hands had cupped her breasts and I was stimulating her nipples. I gave Carol a wink and she gave a frustrated scream of fury as I bent down and bit her breast, letting my teeth graze against her nipple. Her anger and frustration didn't stop her from humping her hips though. She was right into it, keeping up with me every step of the way.

This was undoubtedly the happiest fight this old ring had ever had. On my part that is. I thought it was fantastic. Carol seemed to be in two minds. Her body was saying yes, yes, yes while her mind was saying no, no, no. Fortunately for me her body was in full control. I don't think Carol had even stopped to consider the fact that she hadn't said no or stop.

I was going full bore when I saw Carol's eyes starting to glaze over. That was clue enough for me and I started driving into her even faster, quite happy to explode now that I knew Carol was about there.

Undoubtedly it was my old age that slowed me down a trifle. Carol suddenly screamed and I could feel her clamping down around me where I was busy entertaining her. The extra drag was enough to push me over the edge and I let her have everything I possessed.

Afterwards I gave Carol some advice. If she wanted a hobby, forget boxing. Take up something like macramé because she would never make a fighter. If she wanted a shower, she could use the changing rooms but she'd have to hurry as the gym would be opening soon. I didn't want her in there when the men came in to start changing as she might embarrass them.

I got another 'less than the dirt beneath her feet' look and she stormed off to the change room. Lovely sway on her bottom when she walked.

She was back in what must be a record time for a woman to shower and dress. She came stalking up to me and told me she was lodging a formal complaint against me.

"Why?" I asked. "It's not my fault that you're totally unsuited to boxing. Blame your parents."

"Not that," she almost screamed at me. "For raping me."

"I beg your pardon?" I said, all injured dignity. "Might I mention that you're the one who thrust herself up onto my cock and kept on doing it? And might I also mention that at no time did you say that you didn't like my attentions or that you wanted them to stop."

Carol just looked at me, and I thought she was going to explode. Instead she turned and walked towards the doors. I called after her.

"Excuse me, Carole," I said. "There's the matter of twenty five dollars for the boxing lesson and use of the facility. It's cheaper if you want to sign on for an extended term."

Would you believe she stiffed me? She just walked out without paying. I'll have to remind her next time she comes.