At eleven thirty on the night of my twentieth birthday, I stood in the bedroom of my neighbor, Mrs. Mitchell. One of my cherished dreams was about to become reality.
Veronica Mitchell, one of my mom's best friends since they were the Girl Scouts, strode in from the bathroom, wearing a flattering blue one piece bathing suit and a smile.
"You like it, Jon?" she asked me, twisting her hips invitingly.
Recently divorced and in her late forties, Mrs. Mitchell was exactly what I wanted her to be: a hot older woman, with big tits, long legs and a beautiful face that hinted at "slutty." Since about five minutes after puberty hit me like an avalanche, I wanted to fuck Mrs. Mitchell, as I was taught to call her. When her marriage began to unravel, she spent a lot of time at our house, helping my mom put dinner together and often staying for supper when my dad got home. I was in high school then. Mrs. Mitchell had a teasing way of flirting with me, especially when we were left alone.
As I got older, Mrs. Mitchell advised me about girls, which ones were "keepers" and which ones were "good for something, but not much else." I got the feeling she was waiting for something to happen.
"Of course you like it!" Mrs. Mitchell answered for me. "I've taken up boxing since I cleared my husband out of the picture. Do you box, Jon?"
Mrs. Mitchell bent over the side of her bed, reached far under the box spring and retrieved a gym bag. I stood speechless, staring at her legs and half exposed ass cheeks.
"I can't hear you!" snapped me out of the trance. She flung the bag on the bed and opened it.
"Ah...yeah...sure..."
"Good! Know how I know I like a man?"
My tongue barely moved. "How?"
"I want to fuck and beat him senseless." Dumping out four red boxing gloves, she threw a pair in my direction. "You want me to knock you out, Jon?"
Her voice sounded like it did when I was in high school.
"Because I will fucking knock you out! Put 'em on, boy!"
I pulled my shirt off and Mrs. Mitchell nodded approval. Clumsily, I worked on my gloves.
"You still popping Daphne Wilcox's cookies, sweetheart?"
The question jolted me. The answer was "YES!" I'd been dating Daphne for the month and a half since I came back from college for summer vacation. Daphne was one of the girls who was "good for something, but not much else."
"Yes...yes I am!" I began to panic.
"Now, Jon," Mrs. Mitchell said in a calming, maternal voice. She walked toward me, seductively banging her gloves together at chest level. "I'm not making a marriage proposal, I'm out of that business. I just want to box with you!"
Mrs. Mitchell took me in along kiss. I thought I was going to cum standing there. I had been fucking Daphne since our second date, but I never was this aroused. The embrace lasted a full minute and then Mrs. Mitchel shoved me away.
"Put 'em up, Jon, so you can get knocked out!"
My entire body flushed. Instinctively, I covered my erection with my hands.
"No, that's okay!" Mrs. Mitchel used her maternal tone again. She brushed away my gloves from my crotch and raised them to eye level. "There's a cure for that condition!"
We touched gloves and began the match.
I never hit a woman before. I knew it was wrong, but the twin urges to fuck and punch Mrs. Mitchell drown me. And with each punch, the urge grew until it was out of control.
I unleashed on my opponent, who encouraged me. "That's it!" "That's what I want!" she repeated, even when she blocked or ducked out most of my punches.
I smacked her tits with an awkward and unintentional left-right combination. Mrs. Mitchell taunted, "Oh, does little boy want to fight mommy!"
Lust stung me. I swung a roundhouse at Mrs. Mitchell's head, which she sidestepped and fired an upper cut to my chin, putting me out on my feet.
Through the haze and the stars exploding in my brain, I saw Mrs. Mitchell smile. "I know what kind of boy you are! I've always known!"
I swung again, missing by inches. The fog slowly drained away, allowing me to understand her remark.
"Gonna cum, Jon!? Gonna cum in your trunks when I slug you just right?"
My vision focused. I knew I should have been pissed off at what Mrs. Mitchell said, but instead I was horny beyond description. She saw how I was from the hungry look in my eyes and her fist cocked back behind her ear.
I arched my right to my waist and launched it upward.
POW!
BAM!
Multicolored stars streamed around me and I watched the light show for what seemed like hours. Then they were gone and I could see Mrs. Mitchell on her back, head lolled to the right, eyes closed, mouth hanging listlessly open. A large smile curved her cheeks.
I went light headed and my knees buckled. I was beside the slumbering Mrs. Mitchell and pitched into darkness, never feeling my face smack her tits.
I came back from the knock out punch slowly, looking up at Mrs. Mitchell, sitting next to me on the bed completely naked. There was a purple bruise on her jaw where my fist impacted
. Feeling slender fingers start to fondle my erection, I realized I was naked, also.
"Have a nice nap, Jon?" Mrs. Mitchell leaned in and gave me a strong kiss. "We were both out for awhile! No man ever knocked me cold before. You should be proud of your fists."
Mrs. Mitchell moved back, spreading her legs wide over my midsection "Among other things!"
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