1 Jun 2016
- 4 Comments
- 4016 Views
7 minute read
Like so many contributors to this forum, I have been compelled to write down my recent sexual revival with my wife of over 20 years, following what can only be described as a highly unusual yet erotic turn in our relationship.
Lynne and I have been fortunate in that we have remained happily married for the best part of our lives, having met in our twenties. The sex was adventurous and intense during our early years, although regrettably as we drifted into middle-age and with no children to distract or unite us, we seemed to steer towards a comfortable yet sexually unfulfilled relationship, our working lives taking over more of our time as we struggled to use our bed for anything other than sleeping!
In an effort to remain healthy, Lynne and I eat well and exercise regularly, both at separate classes and the occasional run together. Lynne is far more disciplined than I and so has maintained a much more toned physique, although at that time she had a knee problem and had been advised not to run for any real distance, for fear of causing further upset.
One of Lynne’s incentives to stay fit had always been her annual ‘Race For Life’, with like-minded ladies, for a highly-deserving Cancer charity, which unfortunately had affected both our lives over the years and was very close to our hearts.
Although the Race had a serious purpose, I must confess to getting more than a little aroused at the sight of my wife among so many other females so sweaty and out of breath after their runs, bending with hands on knees in their lycra running shorts and loose tee-shirts, laughing and joking after their exertions.
Lynne was well aware of this and she too had a lot of adrenalin and surplus energy after her runs. It’s fair to say that was the one time of year when we needed no second bidding to celebrate her race times with some good hard sex, often with Lynne still wearing her sweaty running clothes. It had become almost an event in itself for us, which we both still enjoyed immensely and kept us going through the more barren times.
Walking the race route that year was not an option for her, having run the Race for the past 8 or 9 years, bettering her time year on year, the competitive streak alive and well within her. For purely selfish reasons, I too shared her disappointment, as our intimacy looked to be slipping further into the past. However, Lynne was both upset and equally determined to do something to raise money for the charity, although a sponsored swim or other activity just didn’t appeal to her.
Surfing one evening in front of the usual boring TV - Lynne asleep on the sofa after a particularly hard day - I looked for charity events which might be of interest. A mature woman wearing a large pair of black boxing gloves immediately grabbed my attention and I confess stirred something below, leading me to an organisation which promoted ladies to box at a specially arranged event, for the very charities that Lynne was so keen on supporting. Barely able to keep my excitement in check, I passed the laptop to Lynne as she stirred, fully expecting a sharp rebuke and a night of cold-shoulder.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. Immediately, Lynne took the laptop and scrolled through the website, her face a mask of concentration as she read, with what I took to be an increasing flush of excitement. The more we read as we shared the sofa, the more questions were answered.
In her mid-40s, Lynne was more than within the age range for potential fighters and - after an intensive eight-week training programme - would be matched against a female opponent of similar weight and hopefully age, to box over three two-minute rounds, wearing head protection and large 16 ounce boxing gloves. At 5’6” and - I hope she’ll forgive me - about 9 and a half stone (about 60kg), Lynne was of average stature, so wouldn’t have any problems finding a match.
It was the blue touch-paper we needed and soon after overcoming the natural hesitancy of training specifically for an organised boxing match, Lynne had signed up for the training course, with a schedule to fight soon after. Immersing ourselves deeply from the start, we bought a second-hand pair of 16oz boxing gloves for her to get used to the bulk, together with a mouthpiece for her teeth.
Lynne had never to my knowledge fought another woman before, but took to her forthcoming match like a duck to water, never missing a training session at her gym and eager to continue her moves at home, using me as a willing pad-holder and occasional sparring partner, a role which I found increasingly hard not to turn into one of our sweaty sex sessions, as she was determined to give her all in the ring.
Her relatives thought she was mad, her friends were both bemused and intrigued in equal measure, although we had no trouble meeting the sponsorship target and soon had booked a full table at the event, to witness my wife’s first fight.
The night was spectacular, the atmosphere tense and chaotic, yet electric. Lynne transformed from a tired, hard-working wife into a confident boxer, walking tall into the room to applause and whistles from the crowd, who were all there to see commitment from novice boxers who were there for so many reasons, with one common goal.
As it turned out, Lynne’s training group matched her with a woman of similar weight and height, but ten years younger. Seeing my wife taking gloved hits to her protected head and body naturally concerned me, although I knew that she was able to soak up the pressure, as she soon went on the counter-attack, landing punches on the other woman’s torso with equal strength and determination.
Like a demented schoolboy at a playground fight, I shouted myself hoarse, barely able to conceal the permanent erection that watching Lynne fight another woman had produced!
Despite a hard-fought bout, Lynne didn’t take the verdict, only losing out by one point, both ladies magnanimous in both victory and defeat as they hugged in the centre of the ring after the referee had pronounced the verdict and raised the arm of the winner. I expected Lynne to have taken her loss hard, but - running over the ringside - I could see a wide smile on her prefect teeth as she turned to me and climbed down.
Covered in a sheen of sweat, her boxing top salt-stained and with her blonde hair matted to her head from the head guard, her slim hands now free of the big leather gloves but still swathed in red hand wraps, Lynne hugged me as she gasped that it had been the most frightening yet exhilarating experience she had ever had, her body alive with adrenalin as she came down from her high. I was the proudest - and horniest - man in the room.
Our sex life has been off the scale since that evening. Lynne knows - and if truth be told knew all along - that the thought of females and especially her fighting would be a turn-on for me, from the very moment we first scrolled through the laptop all those months ago.
It is not often that a man can see his wife fight and there not be consequences, but charity boxing was an awakening for us both. We haven’t debased the experience into rampant sex, or excessive roleplay but do use the boxing gloves when Lynne describes in detail her feelings and experiences leading up to - and during - the fight. Who needs Viagra?!
Lynne has found a new confidence in her professional and family life, now an accredited boxer, a badge which so few women of her background and dare I say age, can proudly wear.
At the moment, Lynne is considering another bout later this year at a similar event and I for one will be in her corner every step of the way!