My Cuckold Wife #4: Boxing Lesson

BOXING SEX WITH TWO STUDS! My cuckold wife is an insatiable slut, so I always find ways to please her. As a gift, I pay for boxing lessons at a local gym. As the lesson heats up, her handsome trainer makes his move while I watch from the shadows. What will happen when they go toe-to-toe in the ring?

Hardcore Level:

Includes: anal, bull, cuckold, double penetration, double vaginal, double-barrel blow-job, fellatio, hotwife, mmf, oral, training

Print Length: 20 pages

Type: Standalone Story (For Men & Women)

Price: $2.99

My Cuckold Wife #4: Boxing Lesson (Excerpt)

Last month, my cuckold wife begged me for self-defense lessons. She walked home from the office most nights and assault became her prime concern. I didn’t want to pay for expensive lessons, so I refused her.

A week ago, I walked past a few shops and a tattered paper stapled to a telephone pole caught my eye. The flyer advertised cheap boxing lessons at a local gym, so I ripped the flyer off the pole and hurried home. I ran in the front door without closing it and asked if she wanted to learn to box. She jumped at the chance. This made us both happy because I knew she would apply herself in the lessons, so we wouldn’t waste the money.

I eyed my wife. Her taut, athletic body screamed for this activity. I turned to the foyer’s mirror. I stood one sandwich away from the slender side, but I was handsome enough.

I said to her, “In some ways, you’re stronger than me.”

She giggled and said, “Yes, but I still love you.”

I pouted.

She added, “I don’t love you for your physique, more for your money and success.”

She laughed louder this time.

I replied, “I’m fine with that. At least I know where I stand.”

I turned from her and headed to the kitchen phone to book the lesson.

After a few days, the session arrived. Thursday evening.

My wife went out to the car and opened the door. Her husband sat in the driver’s seat.

Surprised, she exclaimed, “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I hope I’ll come a lot,” I joked.

She laughed and hit my arm. It hurt.

I returned, “Well, It’s my cash. I want to make sure you get my money’s worth.”

She looked annoyed but hopped into the car without a word.

We arrived at the Backstreet Boxing Club at about a quarter to nine. Near closing time and the gym appeared ready to lock up. Did we mistake the meeting time?

We entered the large space and saw a man’s muscular silhouette hitting a punching bag. Another older fellow swept the floor. The gym looked ancient and worn-out. Not what I expected.

I approached the silhouetted man and said, “Hello, is this where the boxing lesson takes place?”

He kept hitting the bag. Did he ignore me? Maybe he didn’t hear me.

I repeated, “Hello, is this where the—”

Without looking at me, he stopped hitting the bag, raised his left glove, paused, and interrupted with, “I’m not done yet.”

He caught me off guard. I stammered.

He took one last punch and turned. He would have laid into me but he saw my beautiful wife next to me. His scowl transformed into a smile.

“Oh, hello there,” he said to my wife ignoring me

Meekly, she said, “Hey.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he turned back and said, “Yeah, I’ll be with you in a second.”

He twisted back around and punched the bag several more times. I caught my wife looking at his flexing biceps.

The man seemed rude, but I rolled with it. I walked away from him and studied large 1960s fighter paintings that hung from the walls. The boxer’s punches landed on the bag in rhythm with the older man’s floor sweeping. Water droplets splashed on the ground in some far corner completing the industrial symphony. I glanced at my wife and I caught her ogling the boxer’s sweaty body. She noticed me, looked away, and pretended she wasn’t looking.

Abruptly, the boxer stopped and bellowed at the old man, “Okay, Johnny. Closing time. Lock up on your way out. I’ll give this lady a lesson…”

“… she’ll never forget,” popped into my head but the boxer never completed his sentence.

Old Man Johnny nodded and left.

In silence, we stood alone in the building. Our shadows loomed and stillness hung heavy in the air. After a few moments wiping himself with a towel, the boxer said, “Okay, I’ll give you the lesson, but it’s fifty bucks.”

I dug into my wallet and handed him a fifty.

He turned and said with a sexual overtone, “Are you going to stick around and watch?”