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« Last post by LetsWrestle on January 11, 2026, 02:44:56 PM »
Most of my bruising had healed from getting my ass beat all around the ring in my first ever boxing match by a woman named Gwen. It was the opening bout of a Tough Woman tournament and although she technically met the “no previous boxing experience” rules, she had had a few backyard bouts and the gap in experience between us clearly showed.
We were at our hunting camp now and in a few minutes Wayne would be involved in a fight of his own. My primal, and frankly, sensual reactions that were awakened when he had originally told me of this fight had convinced me to enter that contest to begin with. Being in our early 60’s and married since right out of high school, our love life had long been bland and infrequent. That had all changed the night of my fight and in the two weeks since we had been after each other like two lust crazed teenagers. As scared as I was for Wayne’s well being, the thought of seeing him shirtless and in a bare knuckled fist fight had only turned the lust up even higher. We had abstained for the last 48 hours, observing the old adage of no sex before a fight. As a result, my mind and body were aching for sex and my mind was as much focused on our after fight activities as it was the fight itself.
Wayne stood, clad only in his jeans, shirtless and shoeless and my God was this raw! His jeans were bulging, our 48 hours of abstaining combined with his natural physical reaction to a pending fight keeping him nice and stiff. Partly to inspire him and partly because my fight had reminded me just how much I liked triggering men’s lust, I wore tight yoga pants, a white tshirt and no bra, counting on the cool night air to keep my fat nipples nice and stiff, flaunting my body like I was the hot young teen my libido had me behaving like.
The series of small hunting cabins sat in a circle with a patch of dirt in the middle where the fight would be held. The other men had arranged hay bales two high in a crude circle to create a barrier between fighters and spectators, made up of the other husbands and wives in our hunting club. The fight was over a disputed patch of hunting ground and when the two mature friends couldn’t resolve the dispute they agreed to an old fashioned and honorable fist fight.
We exited the cabin and walked toward the circle, my hand on the small of Wayne’s bare back. I was so proud of my man. The sight of the ring, the people eagerly waiting to see my husband fight and the cool night air had my nipples as hard as Wayne’s cock. I saw a couple of the women react at my appearance with some disapproval and that pleased me in a catty and slutty way. More importantly and just as I had hoped, every man’s eyes were on me, making me feel so sexy.
Wayne stepped into the ring of hay and turned to give me a kiss. He wasn’t the chiseled young stud I had fallen in love with decades ago and his belly did roll slightly over the waistband of his jeans but he was still strong, masculine and mine. My mound had already turned to mush.
Across the way Duke, his opponent, was stepping into the circle with his wife April looking on proudly. The two men appeared to make a pretty good matchup physically and I smiled curtly at April after checking him out, her face clearly judgmental towards my appearance. Even though I had badly lost my fight, it had given me a certain sense of bravado towards women who had never tried it.
Leon, chosen to be the ref because he was a paramedic and these weren’t young men, quickly went over the rules. The fight would go start to finish with no rounds. If a man was knocked down he had 30 seconds, which would be counted by a timer, to stand up and indicate he wanted to continue. The fight would go until a man quit, couldn’t beat the count or Leon decided it would be dangerous for him to continue. The men shook hands, separated and, on Leon’s command the fight began.
These weren’t two hot headed teenagers, they were two mature men. There was no name calling or showboating. The two bulls, both grandfathers and proud patriarchs, simply began exchanging fists. The thudding sound of bare knuckles into thick midsections, ribs and faces produced a sound that chilled me to the bone and the crowd was silent, in awe of the violent spectacle that was unfolding in front of them between the jean clad, bare chested warriors. Both were soon bloodied and glistening with sweat despite the cool evening temps.
About three minutes in Duke caught Wayne with a roundhouse right that sent my man’s head snapping to the side and a mist of bloody spit flew from his lips as he crumpled to the dirt. To my shock and shame, I almost came as I watched it unfold as if it was in slow motion. Wayne was up and ready after using most of the 30 seconds to recover. He had a gash across the bridge of his nose and a cut over a swollen left eye but I took solace in the fact the Duke didn’t look any better. These two bulls were destroying each other! About 90 seconds later Wayne caught Duke with a left hook to the liver and Duke seemed momentarily frozen in place as Wayne’s heavy right hand came over the top and smashed down on Duke’s jaw, causing his entire body to go fully and visibly stiff before he crashed face first to the dirt. The timer started but at the count of 20 the fallen gladiator had made no effort to rise and based on concern for Duke’s well being and April’s tearful pleas to stop it, Leon signaled the end and carefully rolled a clearly out of it Duke onto his back to check on him.
I immediately climbed over the bails and embraced my champ, his bloody body reeking with the musky scent of his sweat pressed tightly against me. I couldn’t lift him up as he had me after my fight but I slid one hand between us and inside his jeans. Looking up I smiled, “You helped me cum after my fight, now it’s my turn.” I didn’t know or care if anyone realized what was happening and it didn’t take many tugs at all before Waynes knees went weak and I could feel his warm and creamy discharge ooze across my fingers and fill his jeans. Our mutual lust and primal arousal was every bit as strong as it was after my fight, if not more, since this time it had surprised neither of us. We exited the circle and Duke, back on his feet now, embraced Wayne, the respect between bloodied gladiators was as obvious as it was genuine. I smiled at April, her eyes fixed on my hand which had more than a little of Wayne’s cum still on it. It made me happy. I was really enjoying my new found role as the “bad” girl.
We headed to the cabin so I could bathe Wayne, patch him up and then fuck him until we both collapsed. In the back of my mind one thought lingered, driven no doubt by pride and my ego. Wayne had won his fight, I had lost mine. I would have to fight again. I had to prove to Wayne that his wife could whip another woman.
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