Thank you to those who have read and have said positive things about the Boxing Wives stories. It's not for everyone I know, and may be too slow for some action thrill-seekers.
It's as genuine and near to my version of real as I can make it, so please enjoy
BOXING WIVES 3 - GLOVE LOVE
From the electric, sexually charged boxing of less than an hour previously, the four of us settled back in the plump leather sofas like old friends, the easy chat flowing back and forward, as though Anne and Caz had never even strapped on boxing gloves, never mind trying to beat the living crap out of each other, or briefly going up against the other with their gorgeous tits.
Curled up against us, Anne's and Caz's robes fell loosely round their bodies and I feasted my eyes on the tops of my wife's boobs, as she snuggled in close to my side. Looking across, I could also see Anne's left nipple peeking seductively through the thin silk, Phil's wife making no attempt to cover up as we chatted and laughed, like any normal evening together.
Carol made a little noise and winced as she moved against me, looking up with smiling wide eyes as she adjusted the silk of her own robe against her right tit, the pounded flesh clearly giving her some discomfort. I looked across at Anne, who was nestled up tight against Phil, but staring intently at Caz and more markedly at her breasts. Catching my eye, Anne smiled and licked her top lip subconsciously. For the thousanth time that evening, my cock stirred and I shifted in the soft leather cushions to make my shaft comfortable.
More wine and single Malt followed, all of us pretty mellow as the time went on. A casual compliment by Carol about Anne's leather jeans saw the two of them head upstairs for what I guessed would be a try-on session of Anne's fairly extensive leather collection, both women chattering like excited schoolkids as they disappeared from view on the landing.
As the bedroom door closed, I turned to Phil as casually as I could:
"Mate. I'm....er...sorry...shit question.....but is Anne.....does she.....with women?" Phil burst out laughing, much to my embarrassment.
"Wow, where did that come from?” he laughed, “Well, she has been known. Seriously though, yes. She’s bisexual. Is Caz...?" The question hung in the air.
"Er..no..no, certainly not since we......." I hesitated, not sure what Caz did before we met.
"It’s alright, she won't eat her" chuckled Phil, his eyes flicking to the upstairs rooms, the double-meaning not lost on either of us:
"She won't say 'no' if Caz makes a move, but she won't push it, if you know what I mean" assured Phil. All I could do was nod and leave my imagination to run riot.
The rest of the evening passed quickly until, well lubricated and in need of some time on our own, Carol and I were shown to our room by Anne.
"Sleep tight. Don't keep us awake" she joked as she closed the door. Alone at last and after the most sensual night I could ever remember, I took Caz in my arms, resting my hand on the arse that Anne had almost claimed as her own. Caz smiled hungrily and reached down for my aching shaft.
I don't know who kept each other awake more, but there was not a lot of sleeping in either room that night.
The next morning, the four of us enjoyed a relaxed breakfast before we had to leave for home, as Caz had to see to her elderly mother that afternoon. Thankfully, the little marks and any bruises that Anne had laid on her the evening before had mostly gone, or were able to be covered up with her blouse and denims - her new leather jeans packed carefully away for a more private time.
As we left, Anne again hugged both of us, this time kissing my cheeks three times like an old friend and then planting a smacker clean on Carol's lips.
"Thank you for such a fab evening" beamed Anne. Before we could add our own thanks, Anne ducked into the hallway before returning with a large, chintzy paper carrier bag, handing it to Carol. "Oh, Babe. You forgot something"
Nestling at the bottom of the bag, curled ready for action, was a brand new pair of large, red 18-oz Twins boxing gloves, heady with an odour of new, polished leather.
"No, no, we...I...couldn't" stammered Caz. Anne smiled and shook her head gently;
"It’s fine” assured Anne “They were just sitting doing nothing at the back of the wardrobe. They were Phil’s for a charity match that he predictably 'never got round to doing'.......” she sxxxxxxxed as she mimicked the speech marks with her slender fingers, “...and they’ve just sat there unloved. At least they’ll be put to some good use now" Anne silenced Caz’s protests with a soft fingertip to her lips;
"Besides, you can use them to knock him into shape as practice in the meantime....”, she continued, nodding over at me, “.....and you can always bring them with you next time you come" Anne purred, "Mine will be waiting"
Now there was an invitation.
"Oh God, Anne, they’re
gorgeous! Thank you! Yes, definitely!
Soon!" Caz gushed, embracing Anne tightly. The girls exchanged one more kiss before Carol climbed into the passenger seat.
"When?" I asked, as casually as my quaking voice could muster.
"Never you mind" replied Caz, exchanging a quick, knowing look with Anne.
Phil and I just smiled and shook hands like idiots. Or wives were firmly in the driving seat and we were more than eager and willing back-seat passengers.
As we drove home, Carol was head down over her iPhone, I guessed frantically messaging Anne. From her giggles at the immediate responses, she was clearly loving every second of her boxing and of the attention from her new, sultry friend. The screen flashed and buzzed faster than it would normally take me to talk, as Caz and Anne chatted away in cyberspace. Occasionally, she would lean forward and drop her fingers into the bag in between her feet, fingering the shiny new leather of her big red 18-oz boxing gloves. Catching me giving her a sideways look, Caz reddened and sat back, smiling;
“Anne’s really bothered about not being able to give me her green pair. Silly.” she said, smiling, “But, she loves hers so much - I can see why.
God! My own pair of boxing gloves, for fuck’s sake! I never though that I’d.......” she exclaimed, idly running her slim fingers over the leather buried deep in the bag. “You’ll have to get a pair” she said, so matter-of-factly , that I almost drove off the road!
We were back home in no time.
Carol did the dutiful daughter routine that afternoon, showing no signs of the tigress I'd seen less than 24 hours before, while I sat and stewed, nursing the painful remains of the rampant hard-ons at the memory of seeing her glove up and go at it with Anne.
When Caz finally came home, we pretty much skipped food and were all over each other again, as soon as she slipped on her borrowed leather jeans - lent to her by Anne as a 'try-before-you-buy' if Anne had anything to do with it - and toyed with her new red Twins, gushing over Anne’s generous present, but still teasing me about how she had wanted to get the better of her, leaving her in no doubt who was the better woman. A fighter had been unleashed in Caz, for certain.
Even with Phil and Anne away on holiday, the next two weeks passed by pretty quickly, with my work and with Carol splitting her time between her usual stuff, extra sessions at the gym and chasing around after her aging and increasingly crotchety mother, who despite being in her late 60s was already a bit shaky on her legs and a bloody nuisance when she wanted to be.
The gym workouts had done wonders for Carol, toning her body even more, so that the snug fit of Anne's old leather jeans, slightly scuffed and polished smooth in all the right places, now clung to Caz like they were made for her, the soft leather hugging all the right curves like a second skin. I couldn't keep my hands off her.
Phil was tanned and fit when I saw him on Monday, fresh from their time away. He immediately came over to me in the canteen, asking if we were up for a Saturday evening, with a stopover to Sunday if the girls wanted. 'If the girls wanted'........ I checked with Caz by text, getting back a quick 'sorted
', to Phil's wide smile. It was a date.
At three o'clock on the Saturday afternoon, we again stood at Phil and Anne's front door, 'The Twins' - the name Caz had given her new 18oz boxing gloves, nestled in pride of place at the top of the holdall at our feet. Eager to show off her trimmer figure, Caz stood seductively in her gorgeous borrowed black leather jeans, with short black heels and a white silk blouse.
We were rewarded immediately with the sight of our friend in a slinky knee-length black leather pencil skirt, Anne looking trim and still tanned several shades darker, the skirt showing off her smooth, brown legs a treat. Immediately Anne made a grab for Caz and placed her hands right around her hips and onto her buttocks, fingers spreading across the cool leather, exclaiming how the jeans looked better on Caz than they ever did on her and that she'd have to watch out if Caz wasn't to clean out her wardrobe. Carol laughed and remarked on Anne's incredibly horny appearance, placing her spread fingers in a similar position on Anne's arse, bringing their thighs and hips together in a black leather 'Y' shape. Phil entered the hallway:
"Now that’s what I like to see!" he quipped and again any ice was broken as we were ushered in.
Immediately, Anne confessed that since coming back off holiday, she and Phil had lost the will to cook, so tonight would be party food, paper plates and all! We laughed, as any food was good and no-one wanted to waste time washing up. It was a breezy but sunny evening, and Phil took me to his garage, to show off his box of bits that was going to be a Norton Commando, if he ever got round to it. We chatted like married blokes do for about half an hour, until I turned and missed Anne and Carol, who I thought had gone into the garden to look at plants or something. The garden was empty. Looking round, I could hear excited chat from an upstairs window. I turned to Phil.
"Oh, girl stuff again, you know what they’re like" he assured me. With my vivid imagination last time we were here, I wasn't so sure.
By the time we walked into the lounge, Anne and Caz were already seated in one of the big leather sofas, large glasses of red wine in hand. Both women seemed to be less dishevelled than last time we were here, so I relaxed and accepted a single Malt. We picked about the food, agreeing that if there was any action to be had later, a light meal would be better. So, with slim pickings and the remains put in the fridge, we had cleared the table by seven. The girls had picked about with the food a lot more than I knew Carol could normally eat. I suspected that they’d either lost their appetite, or that they were pacing themselves not to wear the gloves on a full stomach. For a few seconds, I fretted that we were maybe pushing too fast and that making the girls sick just for the sake of our sordid enjoyment may take the shine off it. In a quiet moment, I’d asked Caz if she was OK. I needn’t have worried.
Back slumped deep into the cushions, we bantered for a fair while, teasing and joking, until Anne and Carol turned and looked at each other. Immediately the conversation wound down, our wives once again taking control over what was to come, Anne uncoiling her legs and standing, as Carol reached out and was helped up from the sofa.
Our wives stood side-by-side and without a word, casually unbuttoned their blouses, fixing us as the fabric dropped seductively from their arms and onto the carpet.
Then, they turned to face each other, Anne’s hands reaching out and easily releasing the belt, popper and zip of Caz’s leather jeans, while Caz unhooked and unzipped Anne’s slinky leather skirt from the back, again with practiced fingers. Their gaze never left one another as they gently eased their slim fingers into the waistbands and pushed the creasing and folding black leather down their slender legs, each kicking off their heels as the leather bundles reached their ankles.
Off came their panties and they stood naked before us. Completely naked. Their slender, toned bodies so evenly matched in height, their hair falling free and loose over their shoulders and ample breasts, eclipsed by their totally shaven minges. I nearly came there and then. Overnight, Caz's pussy had lost all of its hair, to mirror that of Anne. Phil's remark about sisters had never been so true - and I loved it. The only thing that would tell them apart - except for Anne's annoying tan, would be the tantalising selection of leather 18-oz gloves that Phil and I dutifully picked from the chair and started to carry them towards our wives.
Then, in the horniest of developments, Anne and Carol changed places, stepped a couple of paces apart and reached out for each other's gloves!! Effortlessly sliding their eager fingers and hands into the inviting open wristbands, each woman took on the other's weapons as they pushed gently against our fumbling efforts to secure the straps around their wrists. Anne tutted quietly at my crap effort, as she fixed me with her deep brown eyes:
"I'm going to fuck her up with her own gloves - before she’s even had a chance to use them properly", Anne purred quietly in my ear and I was sure that Caz was giving Phil a similar briefing. The idea that our wives were going to get beaten by their own leather was almost too much to bear, as I looked over to Caz, who shot me a nervous glance before stepping back from Phil, gently tapping the now black knuckles of her right glove in the palm of her left.
Crossing the edge of the makeshift ring and being careful just to bump shoulders in a little wind-up as they passed, Anne and Carol walked back to us, my wife now looking even more sultry in Anne's black leather gloves.
"You look fucking amazing" I croaked weakly, trying to strain a look down to Caz's smooth snatch.
"Just a little surprise" Caz breathed.
"How many more?" I asked weakly.
"Wait and see" came the tantalising reply , from a woman it seemed I hardly knew any more.
Now that our wives were far more relaxed about their boxing, Anne had allowed Phil the dubious honour of compering the bout. She’d made it clear that her and Carol were only pandering to our testosterone-fueled egos, although secretly I began to think that they enjoyed the theatre surrounding their fights.
"OK Ladies!" called Phil, guiding his wife to the middle of the carpet and stretching out a hand towards Caz for her to do the same:
"OK, Rules we know. Well, at least you know" he said, blushing slightly and holding Anne and Carol's gloves and bringing them together, until they met with a soft, almost imperceptable sigh:
"The bout is as long as you want it, however you want it. Keep it spicy, keep it clean. Well, cleanish" he winked at me. "Winner takes All".
I let out a sigh as Phil stepped back, leaving our naked wives alone in the centre of the carpet, gloves casually raised to their waists. A few weeks ago, I would never have imagined my wife going up against another woman in any bout, never mind stark bollock naked, with heavy leather boxing gloves. And now, almost nonchalant as they began to circle, Anne and Carol looked so at ease, so sensual, so fucking horny as they prepared to batter each other again in front of their men.
This time, it was Carol who struck first, and what a change in her. Without any training from me, instead of the usual straight to the chest, although with a girly grunt that you could hear a mile off, Caz swung her glove up to smack against the side of Anne's arm and straight onto the side of her left tit! With the grunt announcing it's arrival, Anne was already aware that it was coming, but her equal lack of skill meant that it collided with a 'whack!', knocking her sideways and sending her left tit cannoning into it's opposite number - a double whammy. Anne yelped and scowled, then giving Caz a look that clearly said 'OK, If that's what you want', sending a double glove assault straight at Carol's unprotected right breast. The skin flattened and then sprang back, the nipple engorged and the flesh streaking from the gloved assault.
Carol pushed Anne away to her right, clattering another right swing which barely grazed Anne's left tit, but graze it did and the flashing black leather caught Anne's erect nipple and snagged it as the wristband tortured the skin. Anne yelped and held her tit in her left glove, as she swung in again, flattening Caz's left boob from the top this time, pushing the full breast down onto her ribcage.
Both women kept up a furious pace as they jabbed and swung as much as their strength and instinct would allow them, often missing but sometimes with a lucky glove or a keen eye landing a pearler around each other's boob. A short break and a wary circling would then give way to another exchange of heavy leather, aimed always at the chest area, now defended with all that each of our wives could muster and then repelled with bursts of energy - accompanied by much more grunting and yelping that in any of their other two bouts.
Phil and I sat spellbound, scarcely believing that Anne and Carol could spirit up so much energy and to such an area of each other's bodies that we had never discussed as a couple. Yes, they had promised all sorts to each other's tits, but apart from a spirited boob-brush at the end of the last encounter, the concentrated effort with short jabs, hooks and uppercuts to the breast surpassed either of our wildest dreams.
Like two schoolboys, we yelled primitive encouragement to our wives, egging them on to get stuck in as our own fingers did some subtle walking of their own. Each break, becoming longer the more tiring the bout lasted, was filled with Phil and I often crudely yelling to Anne and Caz where and how to punch, the animal lust surfacing again as they collided in another black and red leather bombardment, stray rounds narrowly missing head and face, which would surely have changed the complexion of the fight had they connected.
With their bulky 18oz gloves and their lack of training and stamina, Carol and Anne's bouts were never going to be knock-down-drag-out fights, which in all honestly I wasn't ready to see between them.
There was always the element of "my wife could hammer your wife" in every bloke's make-up and I was sure that a lot of men would only be too revved up to issue a challenge, if they thought that their wives would willingly fight for both their own honour and the pride of their husbands.
To see Carol hurting from cuts caused by another woman's fist both repelled and fascinated me in equal measure. I could never be certain that, if faced with huge odds against her, any woman would not come out fighting with a raw passion and commitment never before surfaced in their everyday life and I'm sure that Caz - and Anne for that matter - were any different. If they were that last two women on earth, and there was only room for one of them, then I was sure that we would see a different, frightening woman emerge to battle to the end for supremacy.
I had heard factory floor tales of blokes and later their wives, who had challenged one another over some dispute or other, with the intention of beating the living crap out of each other and that, strangely enough, it had often been the women who had put up the best show, each letting one another have the true depths of hatred and venom in their fists and feet as they settled scores while their men and their mates yelled at them with animal lust.
These battles satisfied my own lust and I still remember from my apprentice days, the after-hours punch-up between two feisty late-teen girls in the stockroom, where we crowded in behind the locked doors of the loading bay and cheered each girl as she got stuck into her adversary inside an impromptu ring of card boxes, loving each nasty spiteful move against face, hair and breast, baying for the blood spilled and the skin blackened with vengeful fists. When the fight was over, both loser and winner looked so horny in their ripped clothes and battered skin and so instantly fuckable, that there was almost another scrap between the blokes to offer them comfort!
It had been a nice touch for Anne and Caz to swap gloves just before the bout. Anne's whispered threat in my ear was all I need for a killer erection, which would not go down. And she knew it. The sheer arrogance of Phil's horny wife as she had stared me straight in the eye as I gloved her up, teasing me to just fuck her on the spot, made my feelings for her intensify. Since their time lost in the kitchen, I had began to envy, almost despise Anne, for the way she casually took over my wife with a touch here, a stroke on the arse there, a whispered confidence only shared by two women, to more time lost upstairs in the bathroom, from where Caz suddenly had a beautiful shaved minge, no doubt courtesy of Anne’s skillful fingers!
Now, as Anne and Jen clinched in a tiring naked struggle, their sweat-streaked bodies bruised and sore, their gloves working on each other's ribs and the side of each other's redenned breasts, Phil and I clapped and cheered for our women, their bare feet even treading on each other's toes as they trampled round in a circle. Their straggled hair almost matting together as one as they brushed heads, both Anne and Caz breathed heavily on each other's shoulders as now only an occasional clenched gloved fist banged, rather than punched against an area of smooth flesh.
Our wives looked like exhausted lovers as they gripped, the big leather boxing gloves only betraying the real meaning of their union. Phil and I becoming hoarse with the yelling:
"Go ON, Dol, Get In!!"
"Let her have it, Babe!"
"Lovely! And again!"
"Go on Darling!!"
"That’s it! Watch the left!"
"Come on Babe. Finish it!"as we looked across at each other with barely-concealed delight and rampant bulges at the show we were privileged to witness. Phil openly rubbed his crotch and I did the same as we nodded our approval at one another.
Barely able to lift their gloves, Anne and Carol exchanged a fairly lazy exchange of punches to their ribs and chests, below their swinging boobs. Each blow came with a deep gasp or a grunt that would have not been out of place in any pro bout. Another lifted swing from Caz tagged Anne's left tit, to another yelp and a round of appreciation from us men. Anne's retaliation punch was wide and obvious and Caz still had the presence to step aside and let Anne stumble past, giving her a bang on the shoulder for good measure.
Another quick exchange had Anne's glove thump soundly against Carol's upper chest, this time catching her jaw with the over-size padding. To be fair, it was more of Caz pushing her chin down onto the glove, but her cry and a flailing glove aimed well above Anne's slender neckline pushed the boundary one step further.
Tiring more now with every blow, Anne and Caz did their best to punch and counter between scuffles, never uttering a word and just letting their gloves do the talking. Punches became ragged and sporadic, mixed with prolongued holding and clinching, where this time there was no attempt to clash tits. There was no attempt to drag one another down to a messy catfight, both women keeping on their feet and using their gloves between bouts of laboured breathing and a few seconds of mutual rest. More importantly, neither girl showed any sign of giving in.
Our cries of encouragement lessened in awe and admiration, softening as our wives had once again given their all and brought each other to an almost standstill. Just a spoken word here and there, soft applause, just to let them know we were behind them all the way.
The final honours went to Anne this time. As they stepped back, Caz half-heartedly flicked a left hook at Anne's chest - a silly move. Leaning back, Anne jabbed clean and straight, catching Carol right under the ribcage, knocking what air she had left clean from her lungs with a grunt.
With a pained look, Caz went down slowly, onto her knees, then back onto her haunches, the big, black gloves resting on her upper thighs, inwards into her knees. Slowly, she looked up at Anne:
"Fuck!!...” she breathed, closing her eyes, swallowing hard
“Oh God! I mean... That’s it. I’m...!!” she snorted, almost laughing as she gulped for air “I can’t.... I'm fucking knackered!" she finally sighed through a curtain of matted hair, letting out a small cough as she smiled in resignation, lifting her arm weakly to wave her right glove in surrender at Anne, signalling her end.
Anne's shoulders sagged in relief and exhaustion, as she tilted her head back, open-mouthed and stared at the ceiling, the heavy red gloves now hanging uselessly at the ends of her drained arms. As with Caz the previous encounter, there was no wild celebration, no gloating, just tired relief.
Phil and I both applauded in unison, in admiration for the effort that Anne and Carol had put into their third meeting. A naked woman-to-woman encounter which had left their torsos - and their gorgeous tits - red and botched. With no real temper or venom, Anne and Carol had worked on each other, slowing one another down with some good punches, until this time there was a decisive winner, by a TKO. Anne stood close to Carol, smiling at Phil's obvious joy at having the better woman tonight, as she offered her gloved palm to Caz, who hooked her own glove around Anne's and hauled herself up.
They met in a genuine hug, skin and sweat melding into one creature, red and black leather pads at the end of their tired, red arms falling loosely down each other’s sweat-sodden backs. Their once neat hair now mats of streaked clumps, their breasts mashed together as one, in a mass of tired, blotchy tit-flesh. Their grip was so intense, it would be impossible to prise them apart as we walked over to them, Phil shaking my hand in celebration, our bulges still on show, both of us standing like spare pricks beside the girls as they hugged without a word.
And then, the kiss.
The kiss that came as they pulled so gently apart with a sigh and a sticky liquid sound of sweat. With Phil and I only inches away, wanting our own celebration to begin, Anne and Caz's lips met in a quick, slippery coming-together, no ceremony as tongues darted to one another’s lips, their eyes opening and then rolling shut at the ecstasy of the embrace.
It lasted only a few seconds, finally dissolving as they hugged again, their chests heaving in unison.
My cock screamed out for them,but my eyes feasted the sight and my head said 'leave them and enjoy' as they hugged, motionless for what seemed like hours. Then, they broke apart, with Anne closest to me, Carol to Phil. Anne turned and raised what was Caz's red boxing glove towards me:
"I told you" she purred, quietly as she leaned into me, arrogantly, giving me a smile which hardened my cock by several degrees. At that moment, I wanted to thrust my shaft inside her, for her victory and to pay her back for all the thoughts I'd had about her and Caz, thoughts which now took on a whole new meaning following their kiss at the end of the fight.
Anne stood before me cockily, as this time I made a better fist of getting the red Boxing gloves off her tired hands and wrists, her eyes inviting much, but daring me to cross the line. Caz was having Anne's black leather gloves removed by Phil, who was obviously giving her some chat, although it was too whispered for me to catch it. Carol stared up at him, then raised her lips to his cheek as they kissed, more as friends, but it was a kiss. Not to be outdone, I leaned to Anne and kissed her on the cheek and she immediately kissed me back, catching me more on the lip than my cheek, giving me a wide-eyed, molten stare as we parted. The temptation to grab her and fuck her senseless was almost too great and I was relieved when she and Caz broke away and rejoined their husbands, for some serious celebration and commiseration.
Our bodies spent and showered, we all sat back in the lounge after a couple of hours. Anne and Caz took great delight in sitting in their robes, with their feet curled up under them, knee-to-knee, showing each other the marks that were now concentrating on each other's bodies and mainly their tits, laughing like kids as they pulled and prodded the blotches, gasping and over-playing the pain at each examination.
Phil and I sat grinning like two idiots, definitely spare parts to this particular get-together, letting our wives steal the show, as, after all, they had played the major parts.
Not wanting this to end, I wondered where our boxing journey would take us next. It was after all a draw so far, with one each to Anne and Caz, and a tie in their second coming together. The competitive streak shown by both women meant that they would definitely not want this to fizzle out as honours even - despite their obvious close friendship - and I made a note to speak with Phil as soon as I could about his plans for our next evening together.
