Setting up the match

The following week went smoothly. Angela came to the gym regularly, always accompanied by Ellie, and I began training her, focusing more on her physique than her technique.

For days, she didn’t even put on her boxing gloves. I tried to be as hands-on as possible, letting my hands linger on her curves, hips, and thighs whenever I helped her stretch. I admit I enjoyed it, even if my feelings for her were nothing like those I had for Ellie. They were simpler, more carnal. The more time I spent with Angela, the more I wanted to fight her. I wanted to satisfy a childish, sexual desire.

When we finally tested what remained of her technique, I was stunned. Despite her age, she was still flexible, quick, and, above all, powerful. Unlike younger girls, her muscles were seasoned, knowing how to balance strength and impact. She also knew how to use her smooth, beautiful and muscular legs to channel her body’s full power into a punch.

After putting her through a few sequences against the punching bags, gradually increasing the difficulty of the combinations without ever breaking her rhythm, I found my palms throbbing and stinging.

I had to fight off an erection. This woman could beat me. She wanted to beat me. I could see it in her eyes. She was training seriously, and she wanted me. And I was all for it.

We both wanted the same thing: a serious, physical, and above all, carnal encounter. We wanted to let loose. I wanted to fulfill a repressed desire; she wanted to relive emotions from a distant past and release years of accumulated sexual frustration.

Ellie noticed how happy I’d been lately and how well her mother’s training was going. “*S*o… Do you think my mom’s ready?”

“I think she’s been ready for years. She was just a little out of practice. I can see why you’re so talented, with a mom like that.”

“Hey, take it easy, cowboy. She’s not here. You can stop flattering her.”

“Well… I was just saying…”

“Wait a minute. You’re not just pretending. You really like my mom!”

“Ellie… It’s not what you think. It’s just that she looks like you, and she’s very… I mean, I…” I started to panic. I didn’t want to make her mad. After all, this had been her idea!

She burst out laughing. “Oh my God, you like my mom. I bet you’re thinking about how she’s going to beat you up and then fuck you afterward. I bet you’re training her so well because you want her to do it for real.”

She moved closer, breathing against my neck and touching my thighs. “You really are a pervert. Good thing you’re cute. But remember, this is your only chance. After that, you’re mine.”

After a few questions and some advice from Ellie, Angela showed up at the gym alone the following week, eager to ask me something.

“My daughter signed me up for the Boxing League’s new app, but my matches aren't getting validated because they are too old, and I haven’t been assigned a rank yet.” Despite her age and the confidence she projected, she struggled to find the right words, looking embarrassed and uncertain. I noticed her fidgeting with her foot, scraping its tip across the floor.

“Do you want me to help you find an opponent?” I asked kindly.

“No… Actually, Ellie suggested something else.” She hesitated, avoiding my eyes. “Would you like to be my first match back?”

When she finally looked up, I realized it wasn’t embarrassment she was feeling. It was desire. The thought excited her so much she could barely contain herself. Her clasped hands weren’t an awkward gesture; she was using them to hide how aroused she was.

She was a predator, ready to feast on the most exquisite prey she’d ever found. Her gaze awakened something in me, too. I was ready.

“Careful what you wish for, Angela. I've dreamed about this moment.” I replied hoarsely, struggling to contain my emotions.

What trouble had I gotten myself into?

Maybe I wouldn't have won. Maybe I had no chances at all.

Maybe the most intense match of my life was waiting for me.