Southpaw – boxing gym lust – Masturbation Monday

* Blog update – this post was chosen by Molly as one of her featured posts in Elust 87 🙂

I’m a bit of a boxing fan and I loved writing this caught out at the gym story – even more thrilled that it is part of Girl on the Net’s Audio Porn Library – listen to the boxing gym lust here.

Listen as audio

Southpaw

I drag on the glove, still warm and moist from his sparring. It feels like a bad thing to do—as if I’m invading his privacy, sliding my hands up into an intimate space that belongs to him. Oh, the smell of worn leather and sweat. A shiver prickles from my nape to the backs of my thighs and my knees actually wobble.

I’d managed to sneak through to the back of the gym and go unnoticed until everyone had left. And now here I am indulging in my fetish.

Boxing Gloves.

I would say fantasy, but this is not my fantasy. No—in my fantasy, Jared would come back in, having forgotten his water bottle or something random and catch me as I stood, all sweaty from our training, wearing his gloves and rubbing myself off with them.

My heart is racing as I use my teeth to pull on the other one, rendering me quite useless. As I do, my mouth waters with the smell of his stale sweat, almost rank with weeks and months of use. My pussy feels plump and slick in my shorts.

I’d joined this gym to get fit—a proper old fashioned boxing gym, sweaty, dank, all men apart from me and one other slight-framed woman. The coaches were hard faced and grim, not letting any of us off with half-hearted effort. Of course, when we were doing shadow boxing or even sometimes sparring, he’d always put me and Sarah together. I understood why, our builds were almost similar but I was here because I wanted to fight with the men. Or more accurately, one man. Jared Johnston.

Through the warms-ups, skipping, circuits, bag work and sparring, I’d always have one eye on him. Making sure I kept small and meek at the back of the class so nobody would notice. Last thing I wanted was to be pointed out for leering.

So here I am cupping the thick leather palm into my face and leaning against the wall. My fingers slide past each other inside it, all hot and dank, held in tight and almost unmoveable and I wonder if that’s what it would feel like to fist a woman. Fuck. The thought of my cunt being filled by Jared’s hand has me spasming and trembling. I flop back against the wall and frig myself off while I tongue the other glove.

There isn’t enough pressure on my clit and I turn to face the wall, pushing my body into it as I hump the leather bundled at my crotch. My ass tenses into it and yes, that’s it, I’m hitting the spot, grinding on the stitching, my pussy juice and sweat mingling and soaking through my silky shorts. If only Jared were here—he’d slide on up behind me and rub his cock against my arse, through my shorts, telling me how fucking bad I am to be doing this, violating his private property.

Just as the familiar darkness of impending climax oozes into my periphery, boom, the lights flicker on and I stumble and trip in shock.

“Who’s here?”

Shit

“Christine?” The voice is quizzical, “is that you?”

Fuck. I turn to face him, one hand still jammed to my face, the other to my cunt. My eyes are wide and I must look like a complete mess. I know my cheeks are red—they were already burning from masturbating so furiously, but now, add mortification into the mix, well, there’s a whole other palette just for that particular shade of red…

And there you have it – for more sexy stories to set you up for the week – click on the big purple square…

PS – Image was sourced free from Pexels. It says no attribution necessary but I’m a polite lass 😉

Thanks for reading this tale of boxing gym lust!

Why not give The Curse a read – full of succulent juicy goodness.

Or for something a bit more controversial, you might like The Weight of My Red Self.

x x x